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THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 





PERE LOUIS PERROY 














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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2007 with funding from 
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http://www.archive.org/details/ascentofcalvaryOOperrrich 


THE 
ASCENT OF CALVARY 





The 
Ascent of Calvary. 


BY ; 


Pere Louis Rerroy 
Authorized Translation from the French by 
MARIAN LINDSAY 
With Introduction by 


MOST REV. JOHN J. GLENNON, D.D. 
Archbishop of St. Louis 





New York 


P. J. Kenedy & Sons 
Publishers to the Holy A postolic See 
1922 


acct 
a's “a 
ASX ad 
os St hte: 
 * *) | Artuurvs J. Scanian, 8.T.D. 
uae . Censor Librorum 


Imprimatur: 
+ Patritius J. Hayes, D.D. 
Archiepiscopus Neo - Eboracensis 


ators 
PHELAN 


NEo- EBORACI 
die 6, Januarit 1922 


P, LETHIELLEUX 
IO RUE CASSETTE, PARIS 
PUBLISHERS OF THE ORIGINAL 


COPYPIGHT, 1922, BY P. J. KENEDY & SONS 
PRINTED IN U. S. A. 


Introduction 


HE tragedy of the Cross is the 

greatest tragedy in the history 

of the world. It stands alone in 
its personnel, scope, and purpose. No 
other may compare with it. The human 
and the divine in the person of the 
great Victim mingle equally in its 
composition. Just as its scope is seen to 
range from eternity to eternity, its 
high purpose includes the vindication 
and satisfaction of divine justice—the 
undoing of world sin and the restora- 
tion of fallen man to his long lost 
heritage. 

The clouds that hung on the brow of 
Calvary darkened the universe, obscur- 
ing even from the divine Christ the 
vision of the heavenly Father. When 
the loved Master hanging on the Cross 
spoke the words which concluded the 
tragedy, ““Consummatum est,” there 
was accomplished a work infinite in 
character and value, because it was the 


[v] 
WB9417 


INTRODUCTION 


deed of the Infinite God. It was an act 
of supremest mercy, and of love so po- 
tent as to empty the Divine Heart of its 
treasures. 

All the race that had gone before 
looked forward to the great tragedy; 
and all of us since then turn to it as our 
only hope. The Cross lifted on Calvary 
divides the ages, and stands and shall 
stand for all time on the highest point 
of the great divide. Men that struggle 
upwards toward it are struggling toward 
the Light. Indeed, since that flaming 
symbol was lifted by the sacrifice and 
love of Christ, all progress must by it 
be measured, and all truth tested, as 
by it, also, all men and all men’s lives 
shall be judged. 

In these later days, stained as they 
are by tears and blood, we have seen the 
peoples in the hours of trial, turn yearn- 
ingly toward the Crucified One, and 
then, as their petty triumphs came, 
turn fitfully away, until just today the 
only place of honor reserved for the 
Cross, and its only value to the living is 


to mark the resting-place of their sol- 
[vi] 


INTRODUCTION 


dier dead. We who would stand by the 
Cross, we who revere and worship Him ~ 
who died thereon, have the task and the 
duty to bring back, to set up anew, the 
‘precious symbol; to lift it high above 
the crowns of kings, the ambitions of 
statesmen, the greed of nations, and the 
hearts of men. 

In the following pages so admirably 
translated, is told again the story of 
how step by step the Saviour bore 
His Cross and went todeath. There is 
beauty, feeling, and eloquence in the 
telling. Scene after scene is etched by a 
master-hand, with its background from 
the Old Testament, and in the fore- 
ground surrounding the precious Victim 
are found all the incidents of the Gospel 
narrative as they developed on the way 
—the kiss of betrayal—the cries of 
blasphemy—the reed and the scourge— 
the thorn crown and the soldier’s lance. 
Then the Mother, who lovesand stands 
to see her Son die—the faithful few 
and faithless many; and then at last, 
the lonely, blood-stained figure hanging 


‘[ vii ] 


INTRODUCTION 


between earth and heaven, yielding 
’ His spirit up to God. 

You will have, gentle reader, an 
opportunity in the unfolding of each | 
page to study, to meditate, and to 
pray. The blessed, bleeding Christ is 
looking out at you from every chapter. 
You can walk with Him along the way. 
You can help Him bear His Cross; and 
with a heart filled with sympathy you 
can watch and wait in the shadow of 
the Cross, the coming of the dawn. 


--JoHN J. GLENNON 
Archbishop of St. Louts. 


St. Louts, Mo. 
March 16, 1921. 


[ viii ] 


CONTENTS 


PART FIRST 
The Instruments of Torture 

Chapter Paye 

I. The Cords that Bind His 
Freedom . . 15 

II. The Stones of the Brak of 
Cedron 34) Ga 22 

III. The Buffeting Hands of 
rhiréelings’-"s° . Fs 26 

IV. Spittle and the Ditgs a 
W ineUlg* SiS: 31 


V. The Bandage that Blinds 
His: Eyesonsirg. at ty 1-136 


VI. The White Robe ... 43 
VII. The Whips and Scourges 48 
VIII. The Crown of Thorns. . 55 


BER. i Lhe Sceptertaseh..4 60 
X. The Meeting with His 
Mother, »<)/5-9'4 66 


XI. The Aid Becdeied Be- 
grudgingly. . . . . 74 
[ ix ] 


CONTENTS 


XII. The Kindness Peaheced 


WOT se eed 
XIII. TheSympathyofStrangers 87 
Save orneiiais . sf 95 


XV. The Body Wholly Deleed- 
ent on Wounded Hands 
ana.peet).:. . . ew 


PART SECOND 
Tortures of the Heart 


I. Outraged Dignity . . . Hl 
II. Emprisoned Tenderness . 116 
III. Uncomprehended Farewell 124 
IV. Sadness—Disgust—Terror 134 
V. ..Agony . . W¥39 
VI. The Silence sl thé Father 145 
VII. The Kiss of Betrayal . . 152 


VIII. Denial, Thrice Over . . 162 
IX. Love Disdained ar, STA 

X. The Mockery of Justice . 183 

XI. Fickle Sonsof Men . . 195 


XII. The Weakness of Power . 208 


XIII. The Expediency of Au- 
thority .2 {9ee WP yy be 
[x] 7 


XIV. 


VIil. 


CONTENTS 


The Fear of Strength . . 228 


Jerusalem—Rejecting and 


Rejected  Giee ack « 237 


PART THIRD 
The Summit of Torture 


His Divine Radiance is 


Obliterated "a-25 eo Fi 255 
His Mother’s Heart is 

Pierced: agree? 2 oe 
The Penitent’s Love is 

") ried cite ae . 262 
His Chosen People “Mock | 

Him . ae #1 
His Charity Eihrates che 

Executioner . .. . 281 
His Generosity Rewirds 

the Abiect 2). sata 
His Tenderness Befriends 

Us Alt: 220 eae « 302 
His Agony is Caripteced 

in Silenteteey fee. eee 
Utter Dereliction . . . 316 


Consummatum Est! . . 329 


[xi] 


Ty hae 


ep! « 
ined e Sod 
* Bat ke 





THE 
ASCENT OF CALVARY 


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2 TOK 








The Ascent of Calvary.!° 09°") 





“My death gives you life” 
—lInscription engraved beneath 
the great Crucifix in the Cathe- 

dral of Ancona. 


UTSIDEthe cityof Jerusalem, to 
the northwest, and close to the 
walls, there rise, facing each 

other, two rocky mounds about twenty- 
five feet in height, and between them 
stretches a narrow valley wherein are 
gardens in which olive and fig trees 
abound. The mound nearest the ram- 
partsis bare and wild, terminating in a 
knoll of cranium-like shape. It is the 
place of public execution—the property 
of the city—and is called Calvary. 
Across the valley, directly opposite 
to Calvary, in the side of the other © 
mound that rises out of the gardens and 
orchards, a tomb is hewn from the solid 
rock. As was the custom in those days, 
the tomb was laid out with an atrium, 


[3] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


at the far end of which a low opening 


Bhs ied: ‘info a small chamber, where a large 
* --::stone, slab ran across the full width and 
*” “oteupied half the space of the vault. 


Upon the slab was laid the dead body, 
covered with sweet spices, and swathed 
in linen. This tomb, as well as the sur- 
rounding gardens, belonged to a certain 
Joseph of Arimathea. 

In the narrow valley and its setting 
of luxuriant gardens in proximity to the 
walls of Jerusalem and its Judgment 
Gate, on the bare and wind-swept Cal- 
vary and in the tomb cut in the rock, 
there came to pass, in the space of three 
days, the two most stupendous events 
in human history—the death and the 
resurrection of Christ. 

The closing episodes of Our Saviour’s 
life were enacted on these two sacred 
hills. 

From eternity God, whose Aiea: 
' prehensive prasiiounn embraces detail 
as well as the harmonious whole, had 
prepared the stage for the glorious and 
sanguinary drama. The two rocky 


knolls had long been chosen as the 
[4] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


blessed spot where, by virtue of the 
blood that would inundate the one, and 
- the glory that would illumine the other, 
He would forget man’s long record of 
iniquity and the fatal consequences of 
Adam’s fall. 

In Our Lord’s wanderings with His 
disciples around the city and across the 
plains, He must often have passed near 
the forbidding and desolate rock of 
Golgotha. With what emotion He 
must have gazed onit, as He said to His 
Apostles, “I say to you, that all that the 
Prophets have foretold is about to be 
accomplished. The Son of man shall be 
betrayed, delivered unto the Gentiles, 
spit upon, scourged, and crucified.” 
With a far-off look fixed on Calvary 
He added: ‘‘But He will rise on the 
third day.” Through the pale green, 
interlaced branches of the olive trees 
He discerned the tomb, the stone of the 
sepulchre victoriously rolled back, and 
Himself, glorious and triumphant over 
death, coming forth into the mist and 


saffron light of the Easter dawn. 
ae 


-— 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Through the Cross He had attained to 
glory. 

Calvary, then, would be for Jesus the - 
culminating point of His mortal life. 
He was born to ascend Golgotha, and to 
ascend it as a victim; for was He not 
first and above all, the Victim of Expia- 
tion? He knew this, He felt it in every 
fiber of His being, He had willed it, and 
His heavenly Father so regarded Him. | 
The foremost reason for Christ’s earthly 
existence, His chief role, was to satisfy 
the justice of God, to repair the outrage 
offered to God, to cherish God’s honor. 
It would seem, almost, as though the 
salvation of mankind came second. To 
satisfy God’s perfect justice, Jesus 
must pay the full debt, and receive no 
mercy. 

For more than four thousand years 
this supreme expiation was being pre- 
pared. As great storms gather slowly, 
heralded by threatening clouds, flashes 
of lightning and distant rumblings of 
thunder, so the divine wrath had 
accumulated from century to century 
against sinful humanity: 


[6] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Now and then through the ages 
God’s finger moved, sketching, in rough, 
broad strokes an outline of His anger, 
to be filled in, in the course of time. 
There were tragic and sanguinary ex- 
piatory offerings in the animal king- 
dom: the lamb that was sacrificed daily 
in the Temple; the red heifer immolated 
for the people on the Mount of Olives 
opposite the Temple; the scapegoat, 
crowned with a crimson fillet, chased 
into the desert and across the valley of 
Cedron, bearing upon itself the ini- 
quities of all. 

At times God’s avenging hand was 
laid upon man. Isaac, the only and 
beloved son upon whom was centered 
all his father’s hopes, was taken up toa 
mountain not far distant from Calvary, 
the rock of Moria, where the Temple 
was to be built. The boy carried on his 
back the wood for the sacrifice, and his 
own father was to immolate him! What 
' picture more tragic! 

Again there is Job fallen from riches 
and honor to the misery of a dung heap 


near the gate of thecity. There is Jonas 
[7] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


thrown into the sea, got rid of as a 
burden that drew down the wrath of 
God. In all these tragic figures and 
happenings there are outcries and lam- 
entations that betray the weight of the 
Almighty’s anger. “ .: for he is 
accursed of God that hangeth on a 
tree: (Deut. 21:23). “We have 
thought him as it were a leper,” cries 
Isaias, “and as one struck by God and 
afflicted.” (Is. 53:4.) Now at last the 
time is accomplished: the real victim 
promised through the ages, has come. 
Christ is born, and it is with jealous care 
that God guards Him until He ascends 
Calvary to pour forth His blood. 
There is, first, the remote prepara- 
tion, a slow gathering, as it were, of an 
outraged justice. Jesus is born; His 
crib a manger, an icy grotto at mid- 
night, His first roof; then exile, perse- 
cution, obscurity, followed by the 
sweat of toil to earn His daily bread in 
the labor of the carpenter shop, and 
finally the exhausting work of the © 
apostolate. All, all are instruments of 


- vengeance in the hands of God; the dust 
[8] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


of the highway, the tempests_of the 
lakes, hunger and thirst, the forty days’ 
fast in the desert, His fatigue at Jacob’s 
Well. 

There were striking miracles, too, but 
they are the flowers with which God 
crowns His Victim. Then the final 
triumph, when this Victim is led in 
triumphal procession from Bethphage 
to Jerusalem, and through the Golden 
Gate, the cries of ““Hosanna to the Son 
of David!’ resounding. But behind the 
palm branches, the delirium and the 
shouts of joy, the stage is set for the 
ignominious drama, and another cor- 
tege that will before long wend its way 
up Calvary. | 

The instruments of torture are ready: 
from the more refined—Herod, Caiphas 
and Pilate, to the coarser ones—the 
rough hireling, the soldiers that spat 
upon Him. Tortures of the heart are 
not lacking, nor degraded honor. A 
human being is trampled upon, and no 
humiliation or suffering is spared Him. 
All creatures seem to have been sum- 


[9] | 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


moned to lend a hand, each at its ap- 
pointed time. 

And now the last, the toiling up 
Golgotha, where, on the summit, the 
gentle, blood-stained face of Our Lord 
lifts supplicating eyes on high, as He 
whispers that sublime prayer, “‘Father, 
forgive them . 

O God, forgive ea! Here you have 
the whole drama of the Passion. 


I WILL follow Thee, my Jesus, step 
by step, walking in Thy bloody foot- 
prints even to Calvary’s summit. Let 
me touch each one of the instruments of 
torture, let me weigh the agony that 
pierced Thy Sacred Heart, knowing 
that at the end of this Via Crucis I shall 
see my Saviour, and shall carry away 
the imprint of His countenance upon 
my soul. Marked with this divine seal, 
my life will be changed. No longer shall 
I be a slave to the vain things of earth, 
but I shall rise above them to Calvary, 
where Thy dying eyes sought and found 


the satisfied Justice of the Father. 
[10] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


My God, look first upon the face of 
Our Lord, Thy Christ. Then cast 
Thine eyes on me below, and have 
pity. Amen. 


[11] 





FIRST PART 


The Instruments of Torture 





I 


The (Cords that Bind His 
Freedom 


F all the hard moments in life, 
() that in which one is about to 

lose his liberty is, perhaps, the 
most painful. 

Jesus had risen several times from the 
dark grotto where He had suffered and 
wept, and where He had been bathed in 
a bloody sweat. The darkness of night 
enveloped Him. The ingratitude and 
indifference of the sleeping Apostles 
oppressed His heart; terror of the tor- 
ments to be endured was upon Him. 
He had gone to His Apostles, seeking 
consolation and human companionship 
in His desolation, but He found them 
silent, benumbed with sleep. He re- 
turned to suffer and to pray. A few 
moments more and His body and hands 
would be bound, His neck encircled 
with a rope, His freedom Mid- 

15] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


night approached. Across the brook of 
Cedron He discerned the lights of an 
approaching procession, the confused 
waving of torches, while as yet the calm 
of death rested upon the slope of Mount 
Moria, and hovered over the narrow 
bed of the Cedron. 

An order for perfect silence had been 
given, a precaution inspired by, the 
hope of taking the Master and His 
Apostles by surprise. The Apostles 
slept while the Master trembled at 
what was about to come upon Him, and 
the whole sinister setting contributed to 
His terror and dismay. In the chill of 
night the full moon cast long-drawn 
shadows of the pale olive trees at the 
end of the valley, on the great walls of 
the Temple, and the tiers of the sanc- 
tuary. Immersed in dolorous gloom, 
Jesus was alone, seemingly bereft of 
strength and of will-power, as one 
paralyzed. 

And yet, had He wished, He could 
have saved Himself. There were no 
habitations on this slope, only a thicket 


of olive-trees. Bethphage was not far 
[16] 


- 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


off; a short and rapid climb up the 
mountain and behind it, to the right, 
lay Bethany, the home of friends who 
watched and waited. The house stood 
above the village. He knew a secret 
entrance, and could slip in unperceived. 
From there it would have been easy for 
Him to descend by the Jericho road 
which passed to the left of a deep gorge 
where flowed the Cedron. There He 
could hide. The wild grottoes above 
Jericho where He had fasted and prayed 
for forty days, as well as the mounts of 
Moab, would have afforded refuge. He 
had only to cross the deserted plain and 
the Jordan, and He was safe. 

Yes, but would He have saved the 
world? 

It is not presuming too much to sup- 
pose that all these human considera- 
tions crowded into the mind of the 
Man prostrated by the vision of ap- . 
proaching death, and still free to escape 
under cover of the night. His safety 
was in His own hands: those hands that 
were soon to be brutally seized and 


fastened behind Him, those wrists that 
[17] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


were to be bound with cords tightened 
until they sank into the flesh, taking 
from Him all freedom,. all power to 
move. 

“Father, if it be possible 
In the secret anguish of His soul, 
Jesus longed not to be bound; willing 
to go to death if need be, but with head 
up; not dragged, not violated, not 
humiliated! ‘Father, if it be pos- 
BIE Ise ss, 

But it was not possible. The heavens 
were as brass, and nothing was granted 
to Jesus from above, where no eye save. 
that of an angry God and the remote 
and terrified gaze of the angels rested 
upon the Redeemer. There is no hope, 
beloved Saviour! Extend Thy hands to 
be bound, and surrender! 

The mob fell upon Jesus, securing 
Him with a network of cords drawn 
closely about His sacred person. He 
offered no resistance. Why should He? 
Had He not manifested His power by 
felling with a glance the approaching 
soldiers? Let that suffice. But why 


bind Him so tightly? He makes no 
[18] 


> B ) 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


effort to free Himself. “This is your 
hour and the hour of the powers of 
darkness. It is no longer Mine, My 
divine light is extinguished.” 

Jesus was led forth, betrayed by 
Judas’ kiss, deserted by His Apostles, 
abandoned by all, His hands tied, a 
rope around His neck, His body encir- 
cled with cords. Later they freed His 
neck and body but the hands remained 
bound. When they buffeted Him, He 
was unable to ward off the blows, to 
wipe from His face the sweat, the dust, 
the spittle, the dirty water and dregs 
of wine flung at Him. 


O JESUS, I kiss Thy poor, swollen, 


' lacerated hands! Would that I could 


avert the blows! Alas! I forget that I, 
too, have often struck and wounded 
Thee most grievously. In the Eucharist 
Thou art still bound and bound Thou 
dost remain among men, a Prisoner of 
Love, subject to insults, enduring for- 
getfulness and neglect. For Thee, in 
Thy Holy Sacrament, it will ever be the 
hour of impenetrable darkness. . 

[19 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Those who worship Jesus bound, bind 
themselves for love of Him. To be 
bound publicly, to surrender liberty, 
man’s dearest possession, this is the 
very essence of the vow of obedience— 
and yet the vow of obedience is neither 
servitude nor slavery. It is a bond of 
love between two hearts; a bond one 
wishes ever to render indissoluble, 
beyond betrayal. It is a poem of inti- 
mate and mysterious sweetness. 

Beloved Saviour, I desire to love 
Thee, and to so attach myself to Thee 
that no earthly force or allurement can 
separate me from Thy love! 

Three things there are, here below, 
capable of taking us away from God: 

The goods of this world—I choose 
poverty.’ 

The indulgence of the flesh—I will 
be chaste in mind and body. 

And lastly, my own will—I will 
obey! | 

Thus, bound by their vows and rules, 
Religious go through life buffeted, 
persecuted, rejected by the world, and 
finally, like Jesus, dragged up to Cal- 


[ 20 ] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


vary. Never let us loosen one of these 
bonds, for love of that Figure in the 
Pretorium, who marched before us in 
His divine humility, bereft of liberty 
and power. He will have His day and 
His -hour, when His chains shall be 
burst asunder! 


Oh, terrible liberty of an avenging 
God! 


[21] 


IT 


The Stones of the Brook 
of edron 


HE soldiers, with Jesus in their 
midst, hurried in disorder from 
the garden. They were not sureof 
their capture, and hastened their with- 
drawal by a short path which was cut 
in the rock, and intercepted the Cedron 
below the bridge and the high road. 
-_ “Their feet are swift to shed blood,” 
says the Holy Spirit. (Ps. 13:3.) A 
soul in the grip of passion rushes head- 
long to enjoy, to possess, to see, and to 
touch. This haste to satisfy a passion, 
be it what it may: avarice, thirst for 
blood, or voluptuousness, betrays man’s 
weakness. Instantly he must seize the 
fleeting moment of sinful pleasure, or it 
passes him by. In his impulse, self- 
control is lost, and he becomes a blind 
slave, driven on by the stinging whips 
of evil desires, 
[22] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


J Esus was led forth tightly bound, 
dragged hither and thither at the whim 
of His captors. In descending the steps 
cut in the path, He stumbled and fell. 
Disorder, cries, and confusion followed. 
Those in front slackened their pace; 
those in the rear were precipitated upon 
the fallen body of Jesus. His head 
struck against the rock, which yielded 
not to soften the fall of its Maker. But 
wait. On Ascension Day the insensible 
rock will give under the pressure of 
those glorified feet, and the imprint 
will remain to the end of time to be 
kissed with reverence and love as the 
last human trace of the Saviour. But 
on the night before Christ’s Passion, 
nature pursued her orderly course, in- 
different to the Victim bearing the sins 
of the world. 

Man must learn here below to sup- 
port with equanimity the indifference 
of animate and inanimate objects. 
Why should he complain? What con- 
sideration has he merited, and by 
wnat right does he ask exemption 

| [23] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


from the law of nature? Heat, cold, 
wind, rain, all in turn annoy and 
inconvenience him. In our impatience 
with the suffering inseparable from 
such things, there lies a secret pride. 
We seek privilege, we desire to be the 
exception; our will would be supreme, 
however much others may be subject to 
the common law. 

God performed no miracles for His 
Son when He entered upon His Passion. 
Jesus fell upon the rock, and was bruised 
like any other man of flesh and blood. 
He lay there prostrate, powerless to 
help Himself. He accepted assistance 
to rise to His feet as He had accepted 
the blows. 

All these happenings were a part of 
God’s great plan; touch or alter it He 
would not. They were merely so many 
instruments in the hands of an angry 
God. The terror and loathing which 
produced the bloody sweat, the silent 
and indifferent grotto, moist with the 
blood that trickled to the ground, the 
stones of the brook, the soldiers who 
spat upon Him and blasphemed, the 

[24 ] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


“dash of the whip, the nails of the 
Cross. 


BFiistice.ol of God! 


[25] 


Ii] 


The Buf eting Hands of 
H. irelings 
HY should a blow in the face 


so outrage a man’s sense of 

honor? Because the face isthe 
noblest partof man. Lifeand love are 
expressed in its lineaments, it reflects the 
soul, it turns upward to heaven. The 
physical pain is a secondary thing—the 
blow is, rather, a moral affront that 
gives rise to rage and shame, that dis- 
honors and humiliates one not only in 
his own eyes, but in the eyes of others. 
To be struck by an inferior is the ulti- 
mate expression of insult and indignity, . 
and is as a burning wound to one’s 
pride. 

Jesus had appeared before the high 
priest, who, by subtle methods of 
questioning, endeavored to entrap Him. » 
Soldiers and servants crowded around 


Him—a low rabble, flatterers, and time- 
[26 ] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


servers, athirst for gain. And they had 
a private grudge to settle. That glance 
of Jesus, which had cast them to the 
ground, the ignominy of that humilia- 
tion in the garden must be avenged. 
One of the soldiers struck the first 
blow, masking his rancor under the 
guise of zeal in obeying the commands 
of the high priest—a zeal fraught with 
no danger, since Jesus could neither 
return the blow nor ward it off. The 
soldier saw his chance to curry favor 
with his master and the presiding 
council. | 

On the road of sorrow and disillu- 
sion, when misfortunes follow in rapid 
succession, and certain milestones are 
once passed, return to the old happiness 
is forever barred. There is no going 
back: the way leads ever on to deeper 
humiliation and pain. Louis XVI, 
pursued by the scum of the people, 
driven into the embrasure of a window 
in the Tuileries and there forced to don 
a red cap, mount a table, and drink a 
draught of wine to satisfy the grotesque 
caprice of the mad populace, lost in 

[27] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


that moment his royal prestige as king 
and protector. From such a dethrone- 
ment there is no return to glory. 

Thus the buffeting shattered Christ’s 
prestige in the eyes of the crowd. The 
soldiers whom He had flung to earth 
in the garden, assured now that no 
more ‘magic’ would be practised and no 
return made to their outrages, assumed 
an overbearing attitude. Their capers 
aroused such mirth and applause that 
their comrades, warming themselves in 
the atrium, hurried in to witness the 
fun, just as the first resounding blow 
had been struck." 

The blood rushed to the face of 
Jesus. This blow marked the beginning 
of His Passion. Accepting it in silence, 
He submitted in silence to the long 
series of indignities that followed upon 
it. 

Ever since that fatal night, Christ is 
struck each time those in authority 


1 In the midst of the ruins of what was once the house of 
Annas there stands, in the court, a gnarled olive tree, to 
the trunk of which Jesus was bound. And on the spot 
where, tradition tells us, Jesus was struck by the soldier 
of the high priest, alamp burns night and day. 

[28 ] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


uphold laws in opposition to the teach- 
ing of His Church. ‘““Why these narrow 
dogmas?” is the cry. ““Why submit to 
an intolerant Church? Caesar’s rights 
are supreme!’ And when His Spirit is 
scoffed at, and excluded from our daily 
lives and from society at large, when we 
revolt against certain commandments 
and commit shameful acts, we buffet 
Christ before His angels and saints. 
Again it is secret pride that demands 
personal liberty and free indulgence in 
pleasure: “Hast Thou given me free- 
dom of action but to set limits to it?” 
*Tis the old cry of Lucifer, “I will not 
serve!”’ a3 

And there are certain cruel prefer- — 
ences that are like a blow. First the 
high priest was preferred to Christ; a 
few hours later it would be Barabbas— 
a second blow. So all that disparages 
Christ and His cause are as blows struck 
at the Redeemer. 


Ou, Jesus! I accept in remembrance 
of Thy cruel buffeting all that could 
[ 29] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


humiliate me in public or in private, 
and especially do I accept humiliations 
that come from my inferiors. 


[30] 


IV 
Spittle and the ‘Dregs of Wine 


( ' HRIST’S condemnation in Her- 
od’s court, for blasphemy, was 
the signal to lower all barriers of 

restraint. The high priest descended 

hastily from the raised platform and 
rent his garments. The other judges, 
seated in a semi-circle around him on 
the floor, arose from their cushions. 

The two secretaries, occupied in taking 

depositions for and against the Accused, 

threw down their tablets, and with one 
voice the words, “He has blasphemed; 

He is worthy of death!” rang through 

the atrium. That cry was the signal. 

A rush was made for Jesus. The judges 

and superior officers, vying with the 

servants, spat at and derided Him. 

The servants and soldiers, armed, as 

was customary, with cords and whips, 

were stationed in the judgment-hall, 
where they awaited the nee prune 
| 31 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY- 


the Prisoner. And at those words, “He 
has blasphemed,”’ a mob was let loose. 

Morning approached. Jesus, bound, 
was dragged into a corner in the guard- 
house where gathered the servants and 
soldiers. Through their. disordered 
midst He was driven, an object of 
derision, struck at from all sides as He 
passed. 

The Sanhedrin, after the banal inter- 
change of polite expressions then in. 
usage, retired for the night, only to 
assemble again at daybreak to hold a 
second council. Jesus, in the meantime, 
alone and unprotected, was handed 
over to the soldiers, vulgar men un- 
couth in speech, brutal in gesture, 
flushed with drink. They had two 
hours before them to deal, according 
to their whim, with this Prisoner, con- 
demned by the law and fallen from His 
high estate. A smouldering hatred 
rankled in the breasts of these under- 
lings. Only the heart and the eye of 
love are able to comprehend the lengths 
to which miscreants of this caliber can 

[32] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


go in outraging the gentle Saviour, and 
in wreaking their vengeance upon Him. 

“Let us,” they said, “examine him 
by outrages and tortures.”” (Wis. 2 : 
19.) He proclaims Himself the Son of 
God. Now we shall see if He speaks the 
truth. Christ had been condemned for 
sacrilege and blasphemy by the highest 
moral authority. The priests and 
judges who gave at least the appear- 
ance of legality, were no longer present, 
and the soldiers had a free hand. Had 
these soldiers all been Jews, that fact 
would have sufficed to explain these 
outrages. And Jesus being a vanquished 
Jew, it is not strange that Romans 
_ should take part, for Rome was not 
moved to compassion save from motives 
of expediency. 

The guards, whether Jews or Ro- 
mans, were weary of their prolonged 
hours of duty and vented their spleen 
in cries, jeers and a torrent of blows. 
“They strike him and say many things 
against him, blaspheming,” says St. 
Luke. They taunted Him with the title 
of prophet, and in the hour of His weak- 

[33] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


ness they belittled His power with the 
name of magic. The prophets foretold 
greater degradation than that recorded 
in the words of St. Luke. Job exclaimed, 
“They have rushed in upon me, as 
when a wall is broken, and a gate is 
opened, and have rolled themselves 
down to my miseries. . . J amcom- 
pared to dirt and am likened to embers 
and ashes.” (Job 30 : 14, 19.) 

In what more striking words could 
His sufferings be expressed? Isaias 
declared: “I have given my body to the 
strikers, and my cheeks to them that 
pluck them: I have not turned my face 
from them that rebuked me, and spit 
upon me. (Is. 50:6.) I looked about . 
and there was none to help: I far 
and there was none to give aid: ss 
(Is. 63 : 5.) What appalling solivude in 
the midst of His enemies! 

“T am become like to a pelican of the 
wilderness: I am like a night raven in 
the house. I have watched . . . all 
alone.” (Ps. 101 : 7, 8.) And finally, 
“T shall be satiated with opprobrium.” 
To fulfil these prophecies Christ must 

[34] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


sound the depths of ignominy and 
humiliation in the midst of this drunken 
rabble. ‘““Those in wine scoffed at me 
and tormented me in derision, compos- 
ing songs to disparage me,” and again, 
“Now I am turned into their song, and 
am become their byword.” (Job 30 : 9.) 


[35] 


V 


The Bandage that Blinas 
His Eyes 


WO things,- however, disturbed 

and exasperated His tormen- 

tors,—the steady gaze of those 

eyes; His silence and submission. This 

demeanor troubled and annoyed them; 

they would have preferred murmurings 

or cries of pain to show they had 
achieved their object. 

One of the torturers, gifted with a 
more inventive mind, proposed to cover 
those disquieting eyes, to make a 
derisive jest of the Saviour’s gift of 
prophecy. The guards had gathered to 
take part in the amusement, and in the 
intervals between the buffeting and 
spitting—for it is written, ““They ceased 
not to spit in my face,”—in the midst of 
the throwing of dice, and the drinking 
of wine, they diverted themselves in 


this wise. 
[ 36] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


“Now tell us, Christ, the Messias, 
Son of God and great Prophet, who has 
struck Thee?’ and a ringing blow fell 
upon His countenance. “‘And this man 
here before Thee, who is he?” Then 
from behind another blow smote that 
face “‘set as a most hard rock.” (Isa. 
50:7.) “Come now! Tell us his name, 
his age, his country; speak!” 

The thin cloth binding the eyes 
drooped and veiled a portion of the 
visage. Even with the eyes hidden, 
that erect head was _ exasperating. 
Blows and blasphemies were rained 
upon the Victim until the executioners 
stopped at last, wearied and surfeited. 
Nothing is sadder or more revolting 
than the exhaustion that follows upon 
the satiation of brutal passion. 


Tuere exist two celebrated 
paintings of that tragic night. In 
one the Divine Majesty is pictured 
under a torrent of blows, out- 
raged and spat upon. In the other, 
all that is indecorous and malicious 


in human nature is exposed in its 
[37] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


hideous crudity. In the first, a fresco 
by Fra Angelico, in the convent of St. 
Mark in Florence, Christ is seated upon 
a throne in the attitude of a king, the 
folds of His garment falling away 
gracefully on either side. The pose is 
calm and imbued with the serenity of a 
superior being. In one hand He holds a 
reed for a scepter, in the other a globe. 
All about Him are coarse faces saluting 
Him ironically, sensual mouths in the 
act of spitting, hands. lifted to deal 
blows; a menacing fist is flourished in 
His face, a hand armed with a stick is 
about to strike.. Calm and unmoved, 
Jesus submits to all these indignities. 
His mouth is sad, His eyes are bound, 
but the thin. covering does not com- 
pletely hide the resignation of those 
closed lids. And yet so great an air of 
majesty emanates from this despised 
Being, that one falls on one’s knees in 
adoring contemplation. 

Let us reflect a moment on the gentle 
face, and the bound eyes; seeking in 
this bandaging the intentions of men 


and the lesson God would teach us: 
[ 38] | 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


Fear as well as derision caused men to 
blindfold Christ. They feared, in per- 
petrating their vulgar indignities, to 
meet the gaze of their Victim, for the 
eye of the Master was the eye of God. 
Bound hands and blinded eyes leave 
Him a helpless plaything at the mercy 
of His captors. In this picture God 
would disclose to us the refuge which 
the human soul can find, when, after 
- the manner of Christ, it takes shelter 
from mockery and affront by retiring 
into the spiritual depths of its nature, 
shutting away the storm svi rages 
without. 

But though He appears to have 
hidden himself in this profound silence, 
it is only for a time: the hour of action 
will come. “I shall have My day and 
My hour—for Me and all My elect who 
now seem oppressed by this silence 
from on high.” “Behold the Son of man 
to-day, struck in the face by hirelings 
and scorned by judges; then you who 
strike and spit upon Him shall see Him 
resplendent in His majesty at the right 
handofGod. God Himself! 7 day 

39 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


is a day of wrath, .. . a day of 
calamity and misery” (Sophon. 1 : 15). 

“On that day I shall act,” He tells us 
through the voice of His prophets. Now: 
He is passive. “In that day I shall 
finish My work.” Hence nothing is yet 
finished. ‘On that day I shall display 
My mercy and My justice.” Hence 
these attributes are now in abeyance! 
“On that day the just will be My pos- . 
session.”” Safe in the hands of God— 
what better refuge? And the perse- 
cutors, the executioners, the impious, 
what of them? “I shall devour them as 
fire consumes dry stubble.”’ 

On that day you shall look back, 
O sinners, and shall see from afar My 
happiness and the happiness of My 

elect. “And you shall return, and shall 
see the difference between the just and 
the wicked: and between him that 
serveth God, and him that serveth him 
not.”” (Mal. 3:18). I wait, O Lord, 
believing that I shall one day see the 
splendor of Thy goodness in that land 


where death is no more! “I believe to » 
[ 40 ] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


see the good things of the Lord in the 
land of the living.” (Ps. 26 : 13). 


Tue second painting, portraying the 
cruelty and disrespect of men, is a 
scene from the brush of Poussin. 

In a low room, lighted by torches, 
soldiers are drinking, laughing, gam- 
bling, singing ribald songs. Hatred and 
impurity, traits violent and _ bestial, 
wear the same visage, destroying the 
likeness of God in His creature. Jesus, 
His hands tied behind His back, is 
seated in a corner, posed in profile. His 
body is in a painfully bent position, the 
head draped with a filthy rag. Servants 
and hangers-on amuse themselves with 
their Victim, while the soldiers, tired of 
this pastime, are gambling. A cruel 
blow has just been dealt the Master, 
and the room resounds with coarse 
guffaws and loud applause. One bends 
indecently before Christ, his grinning, 
sneering face looking over his shoulder 
as if he would say: “Now, who is 
before Thee?’ Through the cloth that 
covers His countenance, in ia Sei 

41 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


attitude of the Master, in the tears 
which stream down His cheek, one 
divines His suffering and resignation 
and the crushing of His human Heart. 

Oh, veiled head of Jesus! Oh, mock- 
ery, indecency, and cowardly derision, 
ye are the consolation of the oppressed! 
Behind the veil Jesus knows all, sees all, 
judges all. 

“The eyes of the Lord are upon the 
just: and his ears unto their prayers” 
(Ps. 33: 16). Behind Thy veil, “‘re- 
member me, O my God, unto good. 


Amen” (2 Esd. 13 : 31). 


[42] 


VI 
The White Robe 


HEN morning came, Jesus was 
dragged from Pilate to Herod, 
andinwhat a pitiful condition! 


During the last part of the night He had 
reached. the nadir of suffering and 
humiliation. The low room from which 
He emerged, the pillar, the olive tree in 
the court of Caiphas to which He was 
bound while the soldiers fortified them- 
selves with wine, and took breath in 
order to put renewed vigor into their 
work—all these are so many witnesses 
of His terrible agony. | 

From Pilate’s court He was driven 
through the streets. His garments were 
soiled, His face swollen and bruised 
from blows, His beard matted with dust 
and spittle. Men turned away at the 
sight of Him, the Prophet tells us. It 
was a repugnant face, not sufficiently 
blood-stained to excite pity, ye filthy 

43 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


and disfigured enough to awaken a 
feeling of disgust. My God, pardon 
this description, but it is true, and one 
dare not change what has been said by ~ 
the Holy Spirit. His arms were bound, 
and on that divine cheek from which 
He could not wipe the tears, one per- 
ceived through the dirt and disfigure- 
ment, the blush of shame. Jesus, we are 
told, wept often during the Passion. 
Now He stood before Herod. That 
voluptuous and blase man had long 
desired to see the Wonder-Worker, and 
had assembled his court early in the 
morning, as guests are bidden to witness 
the tricks of some. celebrated sleight-of- 
hand performer. And as Christ stood 
there, pale, bedraggled and exhausted, 
a shiver of disgust ran through that 
elegant assembly. ‘Why have the 
guards not changed His clothes or at 
least cleaned Him?’. was the query 
written on their dissolute faces. 

Jesus was questioned, flattered, 
praised, and caressed in turn. Through 
it all He remained silent. They untied 
His hands, that He might perform His 

[44] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


tricks, but His arms fell lifeless, and no 
word escaped His lips. They insisted, 
beginning to manifest signs of impa- 
tience. | 

“Why, think you, have I risen so 
early and disarranged my day and 
assembled my court, but to witness 
your exploits and to hear what you 
have to say?” 

Still Jesus stood mute. 

“Who is this stupid fool, ignorant of 
the amenities and usages of society, 
that Pilate has sent to me?” 

“Your rival, O Herod, for He calls 
- Himself ‘King of the Jews! ”’ 

“A handsome king in truth! We shall 
clothe him in royal robes, for I prom- 
ised my court an entertainment, and 
since he refuses to amuse us, we shall 
amuse ourselves.” 

The white robe, the garment of con- 
tempt, was brought forth and put on 
Jesus; but He stood unmoved, His atti- 
tude disdainful of the world personified 
in Herod. This explained His silence. 
Had He before Him a sinner, oh! then 
His Heart would have melted, and His 

[45] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


hands would have sought him in the 
dust to uplift him; but before one who 
mocked, Jesus was silent, biding His 
time. “‘I also will laugh in your destruc- 
tion and will mock when that shall 
come to you which you feared” (Prov. 
1 : 26). I, Infinite Wisdom, whom you 
treat as a fool, I in My time, will 
deride and make sport of you! 
What grim sport! 


“Tuere are white garments still in 
the world and ever will be as long as the 
world is what it is. Those who are 
willing to sacrifice something for love 
of God wear a portion of His robe. To 
love God above all things, means to be 
clothed, according to the world, in the 
garment of a fool. There is, however, 
still another garment, that of humility, 
donned with the thought of my sins 
that envelop me, the temptations that 
encompass me, the revolt of my senses, 
my falls, perhaps. This mantle of 
humility is all | have to offer God, hav- 
ing lost my first robe, the garment of 


my innocence. 
[ 46] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


My Lord and my God, deign to order 
that my robe be brought to me; and 
_ with it the ring and the sandals and 
Thy love, to be mine once more! Amen. 


[47] 


VII 
The W hips and § courges 


ROM the beginning of His life 
H unto the end, Jesus had ever 

before His eyes His bloody Pas- 
sion—like an artist who, through all 
suffering and sacrifice, holds fast to the 
ideal from which he ee his master- 
piece. 

The Great Drama had five principal 
acts which Jesus enumerated in detail, 
and to which He had often referred in 
intimate converse with His disciples. 
More than once, with a touch of sad- 
ness, He had said to them: ““The Son 
of man shall be betrayed, but woe to 
him who betrays Him. He shall be 
delivered to the Princes of the Priests 
and to the Ancients, who in turn will 
deliver Him to the Gentiles.” This is 
the first act. 

He will be mocked and derided, He 


will be made the-sport of tormentors 
[48 ] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


who will vent their spleen upon Him. 
In these words, as in a mirror where 
distant scenes are reflected, Jesus re- 
viewed all the outrages that were to be 
perpetrated by Herod’s bodyguard in 
the Pretorium,: even to the sinister 
ridicule of the mock coronation, and 
the royal title nailed at the head of the 
cross. This is the second act. 

One sentence describes the third 
act: ‘He was spat upon.” Christ 
shudders at the thought of it. 

He: is scourged, beaten as a slave, 
an evil animal. Act the fourth. 

Following upon all these scenes of 
cruelty and orgies of blood, we come 
to the fifth and last act of the drama, 
with Calvary for its setting. 

Here we have an abridgment of the 
whole Passion of Christ as it occupied 
His thoughts and anguished His soul 
during His mortal life. The betrayal, 
the mocking, the spitting, the buffet- 
ing, the cross, are the summits He 
- must climb in less than eighteen hours. 
But what depths of humiliation He 
was to pass through before reaching 

[49] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


the great culmination of the Cruci- 
fixion! 

They scourged Him. A superfluous 
cruelty, the scourging, this inflicting of 
unnecessary torture on one about to 
die. Scourging as .a_ chastisement 
destined to punish or teach a salutary 
lesson was within the law, but when 
administered to a man condemned to 
death, it was an act of savagery. 

Jesus was subjected to it, and not to 
the honor of humanity be it said; for 
of all punishments, this lashing of 
human flesh affords the keenest satis- 
faction to those who inflict it, satis- 
fying the lowest appetites that slumber 
in the depths of degenerate man. 

The Jews, knowing this evil tend- 
ency, had a law ratified by God which 
jimited scourging to thirty-nine strokes, 
and restricted them to the breast and 
shoulders. In order, however, that 
Jesus might not benefit by this law, 
He was handed over to the Gentiles, 
barbarous and cynical, who punished 
without mercy, despite their civili- 
zation. 

[5°] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


O Jesus! Thou wert stripped naked 
and bound to a pillar; Thine arms were 
stretched forward and tied to a ring; 
Thy poor body was bent double to 
receive the stripes upon Thy back. 
I have seen and kissed this pillar in the 
church of St. Praxedes in Rome, and 
thought with emotion of the blood 
Thou didst shed there for me! 

No evidence exists of how long the 
scourging lasted; all we know is that 
it was inflicted by the Gentiles, for 
whom no law limited the number of 
strokes, that the Gentiles were incited 
by the Jews, that the Man delivered 
into their hands, covered with dirt and 
filth, had lost all title to consideration 
and was held to be a fool, a seducer, an 
agitator, unworthy of pity. 

Pilate’s sentence condemned the 
criminal to a severe flogging; and the 
Gentiles, not to fall behind the out- 
rages of the previous night, gave free 
hand to the coarse, sensual soldiers, 
who thirsted to satisfy their basest 
instincts. 

We know also, that switches were 


[51] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


not used for strangers and slaves, but 
“knotted whips bristling with spikes” 
(Bourdaloue); and, without drawing 
upon the imagination, we may have a 
vivid picture of what Christ suffered 
at the hands of those inhuman monsters 
who, not satisfied with belaboring Him, 
tied Him to a pillar and lashed Him 
until His whole body was furrowed — 
with blows from head to foot and 
streaming with blood. 

_We are given an idea of how brutal 
was the torture inflicted, by the words, 
“The Divine Lamb, bleeding and moan- 
ing under the stripes”; “The wicked 
have wrought upon my back: they 
have lengthened their iniquity.” (Ps. 
128 :3). “I have given my body to’ 
the strikers and my cheeks to them 
that plucked them: I have not turned 
away my face from them that rebuked 
me, and spit upon me.” (Isa. 50 : 6). 

What more vivid description of this 
long and cruel flagellation? Not one 
of the agonies endured by Our Lord in 
His Passion but could answer to this 


graphic account, and now the inspired 
[52] : 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


pen of the Prophet Isaias gives the last 
touch to the sinister picture. 

“, . . there is no beauty in him, nor 
comeliness: and we have seen him, and 
there was no sightliness, that we should 
be desirous of him: Despised and the 
most abject of men, a man of sorrows, 
and acquainted with infirmity: and his 
look was as it were hidden and despised, 
whereupon we esteemed Him not.. . 
we have thought him as it were a leper, 
and as one struck by God and afflicted” 
(Isa. 53 : 2-4), 

This wealth of detail agrees strik- 
ingly with Christ’s condition after the 
scourging. Why did God will it to be so 
~ cruel, so revolting? Why this poignant 
and realistic picture drawn by the 
prophet, constituting in itself one act 
of the sanguinary drama, the thought 
of which caused Jesus to shudder when 
but the vision of it arose before His 
eyes? Those who have sounded the 
awful mystery of depraved humanity, 
and the perversion of the flesh designed 


by God to be the radiant envelope fora 
[53] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


pure soul, can perhaps understand the 
horror of divine expiation. 

In the Old Testament, God, in His 
abomination of the sins of the flesh, 
flashed forth from. heaven a fire that 
descended one silent night upon Sodom 
and Gomorrha, igniting those accursed 
cities like two torches, until every 
- creature and thing in them was con- 
sumed, as formerly the Almighty had 
opened the fountains of the deeps and 
submerged a corrupt world. 

This same corruption disfigures 
God’s work to-day, and but for the 
precious blood that flowed at the pillar, 
the anger of God would have fallen 
upon the world and desolated the face 
of the earth. 


[54] 


VIII 
The (Crown of Thorns 


Just spoke several times during 


His Passion, and on two occasions 

the meaning of His words was too 
clear to admit of a shadow of doubt in 
the minds of His hearers. To the high 
priest who summoned Him to declare 
if He were the Son of God, the Blessed 
Christ, the expected Messias, He replied: 
“Thou hast said it.”’ 

To Pilate, who, visibly troubled, 
asked: ‘Art thou in truth a king?’, 
Jesus answered, ‘““Thou speaketh truly; 
I am a king.”’ Thus Christ publicly 
proclaimed Himself God and King— 
and He will die for these truths. 

These two affirmations, this double 
character of God and King affirmed so 
clearly by Christ before His judges, was 
made the object of all the mockery and 
derision in the drama of the Passion. 
The people, seizing upon this declara- 

[55] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


tion, mocked Him on Calvary. “If 
thou be the Son of God, come down 
from the cross.” The high priests 
sneeringly called to Him: ‘‘Vah, thou 
that destroyeth the temple of God, and 
in three days dost rebuild it; save thy | 
own self.’’ Herod’s white robe was a 
mockery, and the soldiers who saluted 
Him, “Hail! king of the Jews,” derided - 
Him as God and King. As God, He 
was mocked in His two highest preroga- 
tives; knowledge of the future, exemp- 
tion from death:“‘Christ, prophecy who 
has struck you!’ “He saved others; 
himself He cannot save.” He was 
mocked as King in His thorn-crowned 
head and in the title nailed to the cross. 

What could have given these foreign 
soldiers the cruel idea of crowning 
Christ, if not this double current of 
thought which worked upon men’s 
minds at the moment of the Passion? 
He claimed to be the Son of God; let 
us prove it! To Pilate He avowed 
Himself a king. The throng gathered, 
and the vociferating mob surged for- 


ward to the ceremony of the crowning, 
[56] | | 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


ranging themselves in a circle to await 
the Victim who emerged fainting from 
the scourging, a pitiful object, with 
scarce the semblance of a man. The 
garments covering His bent form were | 
saturated with blood. He trembled, 
turned pale and red by turns, swayed, 
and like the grape-gatherer. who treads 
the wine-press, was intoxicated and 
red as with the blood of grapes. 

“‘T have trodden the wine-press alone, 
and of the Gentiles there is not a man 
with me: [ have trampled on them in 
my indignation, and have trodden 
them down in my wrath, and their 
blood is sprinkled upon my garments, 
and I have stained all my apparel.” 
(isa. 63.: 3). 

He was stripped, He was seated in 
the center of the Pretorium—and upon 
this wan and swaying figure, bereft of 
all strength, save the virile courage of 
silence, was thrown a worn court 
mantle, the purple remnant of a mili- 
tary cloak. Decked out in this garment 
of derision, He is now proclaimed a 
King in all the bravery of : ei of 

| 57 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


purple. Arrayed in Pilate’s cast-off 
raiment, He passed at once to the ranks 
of princes and conquerors: “Hail! King 
of the Jews!” 

We have no details of this indignity © 
offered to Jesus, but it was evident that 
only a crown was wanting to complete 
the farce. Having hit upon the idea, a 
fagot of thorns was sought for in a 
neighboring hedge, or perchance a dis- 
carded, blood-stained branch that had 
served for the flagellation. The iron 
gauntlets of the soldiers seized it, 
twisted it into shape, and pressed it 
brutally upon His brow. But the 
thorny circle slipped from the head 
which, despite all His efforts, bent 
under its weight. Then they drove it 
down almost to the ears by a heavy 
blow. Like a helmet bristling with 
spikes it covered the whole top of the 
head, tearing scalp and temples. Large 
drops of blood oozed from these wounds 
and trickled down the divine face and 
into the soiled and matted beard. The 
picture was complete. Behold your 
King! | 

[58] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


The court was assembled, and the 
courtiers were ready to pay Him hom- 
age. All was done in haste, for Herod 
was Waiting, and in the street the Jews 
were becoming restless, gathered as 
they were on the other side of the 
triple stone arch which formed the 
door of the Pretorium and gave en- 
trance, by three large openings, to the 
Roman road. 

Mockery is at once an evil thing and 
a weakness. One mocks at what one is 
powerless to destroy, looking to sarcasm 
to weaken opposition. Few men, even 
superior men, can resist mockery. Ridi- 
cule kills. Jesus alone, and His supreme 
work, the Church, are above. such 
weakness. Therein lies the proof of the 
divinity of the Church. It has endured 
through the ages, jeered at and mocked, 
yet always the same, eternal and. 
triumphant. 


[so] 


IX, 
The Scepter 


HE crowning with thorns was an 
unpremeditated episode in the 
Passion, a cruelty not included 

in the original plan, a satanic idea which 
germinated in the brain of a legionary, 
and was executed with all the impet- 
uosity of an evil desire. It was intended 
not so much to inflict physical pain, as 
to heap ridicule upon the Victim. And 
one had but to gaze upon that pitiful 
object to realize that no detail had been 
overlooked that ‘could add to His 
suffering and humiliation. Christ was 
stripped of His clothing, His body was 
scarred and furrowed with stripes, and 
‘half clad in the tawdry royal mantle 
that barely reached to His knees. 
His hands were bound, and a mock 
scepter in the right hand completed 
the royal trappings. This wand was 


not the soft and flexible reed that bent 
[ 60 | 7 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


to the breeze, but a knotted stick such 
as was used to beat the dust out of the 
soldiers’ coats. Evidently the first stick 
at hand was made to serve as a travesty 
of a royal scepter. 

The soldiers, having amused them- 
selves in thus accoutering a king, 
. now approached slowly and respect- 
fully, and with bended knee, solemnly 
saluted Him. Hail! King of the Jews! 
Still in the position of homage, one spat 
in His face; another, rising to his feet, 
dealt Him a stinging blow and the 
scepter, loosely held, fell from His inert 
hand. A third seized it as it fell and 
amidst the ribald laughter and hurrahs, 
he struck the thorn-crowned head. The 
game was much to their liking and - 
each struggled to outdo the other in 
insults and effrontery. Although we 
have not been told the number of 
soldiers, it is probable that the actors 
in this improvised drama were sufh- 
ciently numerous to insure the unin- 
terrupted succession of blows and in- 
dignities, administered to the noisy 


applause and delight of the spectators. 
[61] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


That adorable face, that head and 
body were already covered with blood. - 
What must have been their condition 
after having been the target for such 
outrages and violence? The imagina- 
tion recoils from the scene. The lashed 
and bruised flesh had taken on the 
color of the mantle, the head and face - 
were encrimsoned, and there in the 
Pretorium, encompassed by soldiers 
who were, for the most part, young, 
brawny, desperate characters, vulgar 
in laughter and speech, an unhappy 
creature was crushed, reduced to a 
bloody mass of excoriated flesh. 

“Behold the Man! Behold your 
_ King! I bring Him to you,” said Pilate 
later from the terrace surmounting the 
great gate, to the mob that swarmed 
breathless below. “Behold I bring 
Him to you,” he repeated, exhibiting 
Him to the vulgar gaze of a rabble 
drunk with blood. | 

There Christ stood, in blood-soaked 
garments, humiliated and shamed, in 


His tattered and scanty mantle, His 
a OF 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


head bent under the crown of thorns, 
the scepter trembling in His hand. 

“Behold the Man!’ But was it a 
man? His features could no longer 
be recognized and His eyes lingered 
with inexpressible sadness on the 
vociferating crowd below. 

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem ....... 
how often would I have gathered to- 
gether thy children, as the hen doth 
gather her chickens under her wings 
Pron) CMatt. 23.237). 

In truth these children are assembled 
about Him, not seeking protection, but 
clamouring for His death. “Away with 
Him! Crucify Him!’ 

“Oh, My people, what have I done 
to thee?” A silent dialogue went on 
between this shouting mob, hurling 
hatred and blasphemy, and Christ 
with His thoughts of love. 


How often that still small voice, the 
voice of Jesus, is heard in the secret of 
our souls, amidst the tumult of our 
passions. For the drama is always the 


same. The Saviour stands before me. 
[63 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Below, the crowd of evil desires clamors 
to be heard. Jesus’ voice is tender and 
suppliant. But the passions demand 
pleasure, satisfaction—and how often, 
alas! we deliver to the mob the blood- 
stained, lacerated body of Christ, as 
Pilate is about to do. “Away with Him! 
Crucify Him!” 

And now Jesus is paraded bichiee 
them, Pilate leading Him back and 
forth, stopping at intervals to present 
the King, who submits without protest. 
to this humiliating exhibition. 

In the church of Our Lady of Sion 
in Jerusalem, and on the ruins of 
the triumphal arch upon which Jesus, 
the thorn-crowned King, was exhibited 
to the accompaniment of ““Behold the 
Man! Behold the King!’ a gold crown, 
a royal diadem, has been placed in 
homage and reparation by some devout. 
soul, at the foot of the statue of the 
Ecce Homo. 

Be Thou King, O Christ, be Thou 
ever my King! In most hearts, where 
the world has always its secret corner, 


Jesus finds little place for His mantle of 
[64 ] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


derision, His crown and scepter; such 
is the folly and ingratitude of men. 
But let us, too, render Him secret 
homage, placing a crown of sacrifice 
and abnegation at the feet of our 
blessed Redeemer. Would that Christ 
were the king of all hearts! Alas! 
now, as then, only a few choice souls 
acknowledge Him as He stands on the 
terrace above the great gate, a king 
of the stage, mocked and derided: 
“Hail, King of the Tews!’ 

Of the three arches that compose the 
gate through which Jesus was pre- 
sented to the people, one has been 
built into the church of Our Lady of 
Sion, where the faithful chant and 
pray and make expiation for their sins. 
A larger one is half in the church and 
half in the street, and under it an 
indifferent crowd passes daily. The 
third belongs to the Mohammedans. 
Of the three, only one is entirely in the 
hands of Christians. 


[65] 


xX 
The Meeting with His Morher 


T IS related that when Jesus was 
condemned to death and delivered 
to the Jews to be crucified, there 
arose from the square a mighty clamor 
of satisfaction and hatred which, to the 
ears of the Mother who had sought 
refuge in a house in the main street, 
meant that the end was at hand. 
Supported by a friend, our Blessed 
Lady set out to await at the gate the 
dolorous. procession that was being 
hastily formed in the interior of the 
guard-house. Four soldiers were requi- 
sitioned to carry the nails, the ropes, 
the hammers and the ladder. The law 
required that a Roman centurion should 
preside at the execution, making five 
men in all, destined to take part in the 
final act of the drama. It is not assum- 
ing too much to assert that possibly 


many others, servants of the Pretorium 
[ 66 ] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


or Roman soldiers, obtained permission 
to join the cortége of the famous King, 
or that yet others were officially ap- 
pointed. Pilate had delivered Jesus to 
the Jews, and this bloodthirsty mob 
awaited their Victim. | | 

In the front ranks were found the 
priests, the scribes, the ancients, the 
principal members of the Sanhedrin, 
with, most likely, their following of 
servants and soldiers, making a closely 
wedged and compact escort. The cross 
was brought forth and held erect by a 
man at the foot of the stairway. Jesus 
appeared at the top of those twenty- 
eight steps (now to be seen in Rome), 
and descended slowly, escorted like a 
prince by servants and soldiers, His 
hands free for the first time. 

Never did monarch carry himself 
with greater dignity, pride and majesty 
than did Jesus in that short descent 
which was to end on the Cross, the 
‘royal purple of His blood marking 
every step of His passage. 

At the foot of the stairs the execu- 


tioners laid violent hold on Him and 
? [67] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


charged Him with the cross. Whether 
Jesus carried it over His shoulder or 
flat on His back cannot be authentic- 
ally stated; but it is certain that His 
hands held the arms, and that the foot 
of the cross dragged on the ground. In 
this position it struck the stones and 
unevennesses of the road at every step, 
inflicting raw abrasions on the Master’s 
already bleeding shoulders and ex- 
coriated body—by this time one great 
wound. The flagellations, the contu- 
sions occasioned by blows from hand, 
fist-and stick had left no sound spot on 
His body, so that every movement, the 
contact even of His garments, became 
a separate torture. 

The signal had been given toadvance; 
the trumpets sounded, the uproar 
increased in volume as the swaying, 
gesticulating human mass was set in 
motion, at a pace that carried Jesus 
forward, stumbling under His load. 
Sweat and blood disfigured His beloved 
face, barely distinguishable through the 
tangled meshes of matted hair. The 


crowd, excited and morbid, peered at 
[68 ] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


Him, eager to behold the traces of past 
suffering, the signs of approaching 
death. 3 

Great haste marked the funereal 
progress, the Jews desiring the imme- 
diate murder of their Victim before the 
great Sabbath; or perhaps this haste 
betrayed uneasiness lest the Wonder- 
Worker might resort to magic and thus 
escape them. Be that as it may, they 
were eager to make short work of His 
execution. 

The streets of Jerusalem were nar- 
row, and the crowd, the prey of pas- 
sion, pressed upon Jesus; they jolted 
and knocked Him about, jarring the 
cross upon His swaying figure. From 
the exit of the great gate of the arches, 
over which Jesus had been exposed, the 
street descended sharply, meeting at 
right angles the main road which ran 
through the Tyropeon Valley. The 
escort was closing in; the cries were 
deafening; the priests and ancients who 
led the procession, hurried the pace, 
until Jesus, carried forward to the foot 


of the declivity and swept on by the 
[69] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


movement, fell heavily under the weight 
of the cross. Blood flowed from His 
mouth and nostrils; with difficulty the 
cross was lifted, and Jesus put on His 
feet again. A murmur of compassion 
came from a group of women, as, pale 
and livid, He rose from the ground. 
But no pity moved the hearts of the 
executioners as they hurried forward, 
turning to the left where the street was 
straight and level for a few yards. 
Jesus, covered with blood and dust from 
His fall, struggled on, His strength 
failing at every step, His body bending 
lower under His burden. 

He had already seen Magdalen when 
suddenly, before an open door, he per- 
ceived his Mother, supported by some 
women. Instinctively she stretched 
out her arms, the movement of a mother 
before whom all was obliterated save 
her son. Jesus s-ightly lifted His head 
and cast one glance toward her; then 
the procession swept on, disappearing 
in a turmoil of shouts, a cloud of dust. 

Mary’s arms remained extended 


and empty. She gazed longingly after 
[yo] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


the beloved figure of her Son, already 
lost in the moving crowd. What a 
world of anguish and love was in that 
look, and that silence! There is a pain 
that lies too deep for words; the eyes 
alone betray it. At such moments soul 
speaks to soul, ignoring the envelope 


of flesh. 


Tue spiritual life knows such 
moments. Jesus passes; the soul 
extends its arms and would seize Him, 
but He is already gone. Yet He has 
cast a look in passing, and like Mary 
the soul sets out to follow her Master. 
Fascinated by that one glance, she will 
go with Him, even to Calvary. Broken, 
bleeding, suffering, on she goes, nor 
rests nor halts, until, fainting and pale, 
she stands at the foot of the Cross. 
Thus even amid the ignominies and 
humiliations of His Passion, Jesus 
manifested His divine power. A word 
from Him and the soldiers fell on their 
faces in the garden. He looked upon 
Peter, and in an instant Peter’s soul 
was shaken to its depths tg a5 went 
71 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


forth weeping bitterly. His glance fell 
on His Mother and she followed, urged 
by the goad of love to Calvary’s sum- 
mit. A word from the dying lips of 
Jesus gave paradise to the Good Thief. 

The bitter rind of the Passion must 
be broken if we would find the hidden 
fruit of His divinity. Jesus acts in the 
soul only through suffering; and salva- 
tion is to those alone who conform to 
Christ and to Christ crucified (Rom. 
$3 29). 

Behold the howling, gesticulating, 
hostile mob pressing upon Jesus! The 
cross weighed heavily upon His shoul- 
ders; His friends were few and not to be 
distinguished in the crowd laboring up 
the steep and deserted street to the 
Judgment Gate that gave exit from the 
city. All was gloom and confusion. Are 
there, perhaps, in your life barren 
wastes of gloom and desolation? If so, 
take heart. You are on the royal road; 
the Master walks before, and it is 
upon Calvary that He gives paradise. 

This sorrowful meeting between Jesus 
and His Mother is an episode dear to 

[72] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


the piety of those who love Golgotha’s 
heights. At the spot where, it is pre- 
sumed, this meeting took place, a crypt 
has been built, wherein, upon an 
ancient mosaic, the imprint of a 
woman’s feet are visible in glistening 
white stone. There Mary stood when 
Jesus passed. One gazes lovingly and 
in wonder at the impression of those 
feet turned toward the Pretorium, from 
which Jesus had come. 

No detail of a child’s life is wanting 
in interest to a mother—and what of 
that most perfect of all mothers wait- 
ing there in the agony and desolation 
predicted by Simeon—waiting the pass- 
ing of her Son who went to His death! 


[73] 


XI 


The Aid ‘Rendered 
Begrudging ly 


P “HAT meeting between Jesus and 
His Mother was as a sword 
plunged into His divine Heart; 

from that moment the bitter waters of 

His Passion seemed to flow over and 

inundate His whole being. The sight 

of that desolate Mother with her out- 
stretched arms, and His inability to 
approach her, opened a new, a vast, 
an unexplored abyss of suffering in 
which, broken and helpless, the Son of 
man struggled, as He was driven along 
the Tyropeon road, bearing His cross. 
It was one of those turning-points 
which, once passed, leaves all hope 
behind. Thus the sight of that being, 
dear beyond all expression, was the 
keenest instrument of suffering in the 
whole Passion. Only those who have 


felt the ache of such anguish can under- 
L741 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


stand this fresh wound in the divine 
Heart. 

The procession was nearing Calvary. 
The steep climb began for Jesus at the 
spot where He met His Mother. From 
then on He could see her only from 
afar until His dying eyes rested upon 
her beloved form at the foot of the 
cross, faithful and valiant during those 
hours of agony and approaching sep- 
aration. To the right of the Tyropeon 
road, a few steps beyond the place of 
meeting and near the spot where 
tradition placed the house of Dives, 
a narrow street mounted steep and 
rocky to the exit from the city at the 
Judgment Gate. 

The bodies of the animals sacrificed 
in the temple for the sins of the people 
were carted off beyond the ramparts, 
and for this same reason, St. Paul tel!s 
us, Jesus, the expiring Lamb, was led 
near the gate beyond the walls. Let 
us follow Him also beyond the ram- 
parts, carrying on our shoulders the 
cross that so dishonors us in the sight 
of men—‘‘For we have not here a 

[75] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


lasting city, but we seek one that is 
to come” (Hebr. 13 : 14). 

Three incidents marked this last 
sharp ascent of Calvary: the meeting 
‘with Simon of Cyrene, the meeting 
with Veronica, and that short pause 
before the group of weeping women. 
At the moment of entering the street 
to the right, where it rose abruptly 
between the gloomy walls of the houses, 
Jesus showed signs of such extreme 
exhaustion that those about Him 
feared He could never reach the top. 
Yet no aid was proffered Him, for to 
carry the cross of one condemned was a 
dishonor.. “I sought among those 
about Me for one to help Me and I did 
not find him.”’ The soldiers were not 
there for such work; the crowd drew 
off, and during the noisy and hurried 
‘discussion, Jesus was failing visibly. 

In carrying our cross, the true cross, 
the cross that weighs most heavily, 
we are nearly always alone. ‘Our 
friends, even the most loyal, marvel at 
our want of courage and are annoyed 


at our weakness and apparent need of 
[76] | 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


help. Our lassitude is cowardice, our 
sufferings are misplaced sensitiveness. 
The world demands serenity in those 
it leads to death. 

Oh, Jesus, Thy weakness is my com- 
fort and strength; broken reed that I 
am and trampled under foot, it is 
upon Thee I lean as my tower of 
strength. 

At this critical moment, a man 
returning from the country, carrying a 
basket and his tools, came upon the 
procession halted in the Tyropeon 
road. At the sight of this brawny 
peasant, strong in sinew and limb, a 
son of toil, the soldiers paused, for in 
him they saw the aid they needed. The 
bargain, however, was not struck so 
easily; the rustic refused, pleading 
other and urgent occupations, and 
threats of violence were heard. Finally 
they came to terms, and he agreed to 
carry the cross up the winding street to 
the Judgment Gate. In other words, he 
was forced—carry that cross he must. 

Jesus stood, a silent witness to this 
bargaining for help, and heard the 

[77] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


refusal to relieve Him of His burden, 
because of the shame attached to it. 
The cross was lifted from His shoulders 
and with His arms hanging limply . 
at His sides, He walked ahead, followed 
by Simon of Cyrene, grumbling and 
protesting. 

The Simons of Cyrene live to-day, — 
and I am ‘one, dragging Christ’s Cross 
unwillingly,—demanding release; only 
force of circumstances or the dread of 
a greater affliction constrains me to 
bear my burden. And Jesus walks 
before me, not looking back, but mov- 
ing ever onward and up. “He who does 
not take up his cross daily and follow 
Me, is not My disciple.”’ 

A cross we must have, a daily one, 
one that humiliates us before men as we 
toil up Calvary. A cross that does not 
humble me, that is dragged reluctantly, 
nor carried valiantly, is not the true 
cross of Simon of Cyrene; it will not 
give meaning to my suffering, joy to 
my humiliation, serenity to my falls. 
The repugnance I feel proves its au- 


thenticity, and the longer [| carry it, 
[78] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


the more I feel it to be truly the Cross 
of Christ, of Christ, who is leading 
the way. 

“OQ Blessed Cross!’ exclaimed in 
ecstacy, St. Andrew, the apostle. “Be- 
loved Cross long desired, and sought 
untiringly!’ But St. Andrew’s was a 
privileged cross, a benign cross, the 
cross of the martyrs, from which a 
merciful God had taken its rude and 
shameful asperities! Should it please 
Thee, divine Providence, to give me 
such a cross, I thank Thee. But shouldst 
Thou lay the cross of Simon of Cyrene, 
Thine own, upon my shoulders, the 
humiliating cross, galling and pressing 
me, the cross one would try to evade, 
or accept with complaining, still, I say, 
O true Cross of Calvary! again and 
again a thousand thanks! 


Prayer of a Soul Carrying its Cross 


How bitter, O my God, is Thy will 

for me to-day. The cross I dreaded the 

most is the one that I must carry. A 

cross devoid of humiliations is incom- 
[79] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


plete. Complete mine, O my God! 
Then nothing will be lacking to crucify 
and conquer me. Death could utterly 
destroy me, and death is more welcome 
than life; but Thou dost want me to 
live in order to suffer and love. I love 
Thee, my God, and although I weep, I 
submit. In a few short years I shall not 
be here to hang my head before con- 
temptuous looks and cruel words. I 
shall be in the sight of the angels and 
saints, blessing the suffering days and 
hours that won me paradise. Oh, yes, 
my God! For all the favors Thou hast 
shown me, and for this cross that Thou 
hast given me, be Thou blessed and 
eternally praised and thanked. Amen. 


[ 80 ] 


XII 


The Kindness Proffered 
W illing ly 


HE street that led to the Judg- 
ment Gate was narrow and 


steep, with a stairway of shallow 
steps, slanting and slippery; and in cer- 
tain places (judging by what it is to-day) 
there was scarcely room for four people 
to walk abreast. To the left a woman 
waited, at the doorstep of her house, to 
see Jesus pass; and as she caught sight 
of Him, a cry of anguish escaped her 
lips. That gentle face of the fairest of 
men, on which she had gazed in days 
past, fascinated by the luster that 
shone from it, was now a terrifying 
mask of blood and sweat, furrowed with 
dirt, with beard soiled and dank. 
About this shapeless Being there was an 
air of languor and weakness, the bear- 
ing of a man going to his death, the 
resignation of one who knows his 


doom is sealed. 
[81] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Jesus looked at the woman as He 
passed by. 

No longer able to restrain the com- 
passion that surged through her, she 
tore the long, soft veil from her head, 
and oblivious of all about her, rushed 
forward, almost touching Jesus in 
the narrow street, and gave it to Him. 

The good Master’s hands were for 
the moment free. He wiped His soiled 
face, while the soldiers jostled the 
woman and finally thrust her back to 
the doorstep, amidst the cries of the 
escort and the continued protests of 
Simon of Cyrene. This moment of rest 
and comfort was dearly bought. The 
executioners, enraged at the trifling 
relief offered their Victim, hastened to 
charge Him once more with His cross, 
in order to put an end to these atten- 
tions. Jesus, although fainting from 
weakness, submitted in silence. The 
pious woman entered her house, trem- 
bling with emotion, and Simon of 
Cyrene, relieved of his load, took up his 
basket and tools and turned in the 


direction of the city, pleased that an 
[82] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


untoward incident had relieved him of 
the heavy and shameful weight of the 
cross, all oblivious of the immense 
honor that was his, in the relief he had 
given his fainting Lord. 

But he will realize it long afterward. 
Many things in life are only understood 
in retrospect and this is particularly 
true of crosses and trials. Yet on the 
Last Day, when He comes to judge the 
living and the dead in the shadow of 
that gigantic’ and radiant Cross, how 
proud we shall be to have carried the 
burden of the Master! With what joy 
we shall offer one mite of our own to- 
add to its glory, and bare to the Son of 

»man our shoulders bruised by the cross 
He has sent us, as He exposes to the 
gaze of assembled humanity, His pierced 
hands and feet. Simon of Cyrene 
played a role in the great drama of the 
Passion, and his name lives because, 
even though grumbling and protesting, 
he carried for a few yards the cross of 
Christ. If God accords such glory and 
assurance of salvation to him who, 


' though protesting and constrained, 
[83] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


followed Him in His sorrowful way, 
what will He not do for those who 
accept with submission the cross with 
which He tries His elect? Holy Cross! 
Blessed Cross! Daily Cross! thou art my 
sole hopeofsalvationand predestination! 

The pious woman Veronica, upon 
returning to her house, laid the stained 
veil upon a table, not daring to look at 
it. At her door she still heard the 
tramping of passing feet and the 
shouts of death as the procession 
moved onward. The face of Christ 
haunted her; she could not rest within, 
and so she joined the crowd once more 
and followed on to Calvary with but 
one thought in her heart: to see that 
face again. Like Peter on the previous 
night, she must know what befalls 
Him, must gaze once more upon the 
face she had wiped and dried, fascinated 
now by its pallor and horror, as for- 
merly she had been fascinated by the 
radiance that had shone from the coun- 
tenance of the Son of man. 

It belongs to God alone to attract us 


to Him through opprobium; nay, more, 
[84] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


to urge us to reproduce in ourselves 
His disfigured visage, or to rejoice if 
this divine resemblance falls to our lot. 
For that powerful face of Christ, the 
face of a condemned man, livid and 
blood-stained, is the true face of the 
elect. And what faces one sees among 
Christ’s followers, radiant, despite for- 
getfulness and contempt. However 
great may be our falls and infidelity, 
if we have the face of the elect, Jesus 
will recognize the resemblance. We 
have been saved once by the pallor and 
abjectness of those holy features and 
we shall again be saved by our resem- 
blance to Him in sorrow. The world is 
mad. Men are mad. He alone is sane 
who suffers as Christ has suffered. 
Wait, be patient, ye elect, struck at 
and mocked; the radiance of your face 
will blind, in the Last Day, those who 
now spit upon it. “And they indeed 
went from the presence of the council, 
rejoicing that they were accounted 
worthy to suffer reproach for the name 
of Jesus” (Acts 5:41). . Such is the 
triumphant march of all the martyrs, 
[85] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


going forth rejoicing because they are 
oppressed and dishonored for Christ’s 
sake. ‘““The world is filled with 
martyrs,” says St. Gregory. All those 
who in temptation do violence to their 
hearts, their thoughts, their memories, 
their bodies, their souls, are martyrs of 
Christ, with the face of the elect. 

At the spot where Jesus met Veronica 
and on the place where once stood the 
house of that pious woman, a sort of 
crypt has been built. Descending into 
an obscurity illumined here and there: 
by votive candles and lamps, one dis- 
cerns a sculptured group, a highly 
colored Christ in a red robe, His cross 
upon His shoulders, and opposite Him, 
Veronica. The faithful approach this 
statue on their knees. I have seen 
women cover with kisses the arms, 
hands, and cross of Christ.. What other 
Being has awakened, through the course 
of the ages, a similar enthusiasm? 
What other statue is kissed with such 
love after a lapse of two thousand 
years? This one alone, because it 


represents our wounded God: 
[86] 


XIII 


The Sympathy of Strangers 


LOWLY and painfully Jesus 
S climbed to the Judgment Gate. 

Entering the city through it, one 
found one’s self in the crooked streets 
alive with the traffic of the bazaars. In 
Jesus’ time, the gate gave on to a moat, 
or ditch, which ran under the walls and 
across the rocky plain from which 
Calvary emerged. At this point the 
procession halted, and the mob gathered 
to hear the sentence read for the last 
time, to the accused. 

As Jesus came into the full view of 
the plain, with the sinister silhouette of 
Calvary at his left, He lifted His eyes 
and beheld that sea of faces, distorted 
with hatred, thirsting for blood, each 
struggling to get near enough to note 
the effect of the death sentence upon 
Him. Every eye was fixed on Christ: 


His pallor was commented on, the 
[87] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


morbid curiosity of the mob feasted 
on the pitiful spectacle of the last 
moments of a condemned criminal. The 
“brutal expectancy” spoken of in the 
Acts of the Apostles with regard to 
Peter, glutted itself, as in the last act 
of a drama, upon the Victim exhibited 
before them. | 

Then the herald’s voice rang out: 
“This man, Jesus of Nazareth, agitator, 
seducer of the people, has proclaimed 
Himself King of the Jews. For this 
crime His compatriots, the priests and 
ancients, have delivered Him into the 
hands of the law to be crucified. 
Advance, lictor, and prepare the cross!”’ 

But the cross was ready, and even 
now cutting into the shoulders of the 
malefactor. Shouts of approval rose 
from the crowd; Jesus saw and heard 
all. The procession moved on, turning 
to the left, where began that last ascent 
from which there was no return. At 
this moment Jesus suddenly sank to 
earth. This time it was more difficult 
to drag Him to His feet. No Simon of 


Cyrene was near to be pressed into 
[88] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


service, and the crowding, shuffling 
mass began to murmur. They expected 
an exhibition, a show, and _ behold, 
they had before them only an unfor- 
tunate creature, trembling and swoon- 
ing from weakness! But compassionate 
women stood weeping, where the road 
turned upward to Calvary, and the note 
of sorrow rang true above the blas- 
phemies of an entire people. It arrested 
Jesus’ attention. He stopped, and He 
who spoke no word to His Mother, nor 
to Peter, nor to Veronica, had words of 
consolation for these pious souls. 

“Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not 
over me; but weep for yourselves, and 
for your children. For behold, the days 
shall come, wherein they shall say: 
Blessed are the barren, and the wombs 
that have not borne, and the paps that 
have not given suck. . . . For if in 
the green wood they do these things, 
what shall be done in the dry?’ (Luke 
23 : 28-31). 

This time the soldiers did not inter- 
fere. Jesus wished to speak. He is 


master when He wills it. Truly, it was 
[89 | 


~ 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


not the despised, fainting, agonizing 
Messias who was the object of compas- 
sion: He of whom it was written: ‘“The 
Son of man goes forth, but woe to those 
who betray and abandon the Christ 
dying for us.” Jesus’ words tell us_ 
plainly that our pity must be for the 
executioners. Not for the Victim, not 
for those who climb Calvary, but for 
those who drive them there. These are 
the greater sinners—and if God permits 
that the green wood be thus treated, 
what shall be done to the oppressors of 
the just, those dead to grace, the dried 
wood devoid of life? Verily, I say to 
you, ye are fit for everlasting fire. 
Dried and barren wood, ye shall be 
the imperishable food of a slow, eternal 
flame, that shall burn so long as it has 
aliment to feed on. And ye are 
immortal ! 

These words of Christ are the con- 
solation of afflicted souls. Their name is 
legion, and God permits their suffering 
and is silent. This very silence should 
strike the oppressor and evil-doer with 
terror, for a day will come when this 

[90] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


chaff will fly before the wind of divine 
wrath, and when this wrath will seek 
out the smallest atom, should it hide in 
the ends of the earth. What availeth 
all the greatness of the world before the 
power of God? 

The ambitious who have sought fame 
and renown among men, will then be 
mendicants. With what anguish shall 
they seek a hole in the mountain where- 
in to hide, and shall not find it! Thus, 
in His last and deepest humiliation, 
Jesus gives a glimpse of His final 
justice. Before His judges He had 
-announced, “On the Last Day you 
shall see the Son of man in all the 
greatness of His majesty,’’ and when 
about to climb Calvary, with more 
sadness but none the less authority, He 
stated: ‘“Then shall they begin to say 
to the mountains: Fall upon us; and 
to the hills: Cover us. For if in the 
green wood they do these things, what 
shall be done in the dry?’ (Luke 
23)3530, 31). 

The effort Jesus made to speak to 


the daughters of Jerusalem at the 
[or] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


moment of climbing the steep incline, 
had exhausted His little remaining 
strength. A third and last time He 
fell, face downward to the ground. It 
became evident to the executioners that 
they were dragging a man more dead 
than alive, and they began to fear there 
was not enough breath left in Him to 
reach the summit; that they would 
lay a dead man on the cross, and drive 
the nails through insensible flesh. At 
all hazard, and at any price, they must 
get Him on the cross alive. The Sacred 
Text tells us that the soldiers supported 
and all but carried Jesus to the summit. 
This physical exhaustion was the last 
instrument of torture before the cruci- 
fixion. Jesus felt it keenly. Trembling 
He went to His execution; His weak- 
ness all the more humiliating in One 
who had proclaimed Himself the Mes- 
sias, the Son of. God, He who had 
existed before Abraham was, the Re- 
storer of Israel, the Son of David. What 
biting derision these assertions excite 
in the minds of the spectators! 

We believed in Him, said the dis- 

[92] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


ciples of Emmaus, we hoped in Him. 
Yes, yesterday. , But to-day? What a 
pitiful epilogue to a life filled with 
miracles and prodigies! What folly to 
have posed as a founder of a new 
religion and to end in shame! What 
belief can one place in a man who, after 
accomplishing such wonders, dies miser- 
ably and like a coward? 

This apparent failure is a particular 
characteristic of the Passion. Only to 
rare and strong souls does Christ give 
it, to those who have plumbed the 
depths of the love of God; those who, 
dead to self, seek no longer their own 
satisfaction, but His glory alone. 

This humiliation of suffering, this 
weakness and faint-heartedness, is the 
last supreme test. To suffer the con- 
tempt of those who esteem courage in 
others and cultivate it in themselves— 
let him alone, to whom this great grace 
is given, understand it if he can, and 
love and embrace it with ardor! 

Shouldst Thou press this chalice, O 
Jesus, to lips that tremble, shouldst 


Thy Cross be placed in arms that fall 
[93] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


inert, should I let the bitterness poured 
into my heart flow out as from a 
broken and worthless vessel, still, in 
this heart despised by all, I shall bless 
Thy adorable bounty, that has bound 
me closer to Thee on the rugged sum- 
mit of Calvary. 


[94] 


XIV 
The Nails 


HE final tragedy was now at 

hand. Shortly before arriving 

at the summit, the soldiers who 

were half dragging, half carrying Jesus, 

halted a little, while the executioners 

prepared for the sacrifice. The cross 

had been taken from Jesus, and laid on 

the ground, where the foot was trimmed 

and rounded so as to fit firmly in the 
hole cut in the rock. 

Jesus could plainly see and hear these 
preparations for the execution, mingled 
with the shouting of the soldiers, the 
blasphemies of the two brigands who 
were to be crucified with Him, and the 
voices of the attendants clamoring 
for a speedy end to the triple execution. 
Below, the mob was talking and gestic- 
ulating, a tumultuous mass. The 
summit of Calvary was too small to 
admit the crowds of gb they 

95 


THE ASCENT OF .CALVARY 


passed the time in impatient protest at ‘ 
the delay, and in pleasantries at the 
expense of the criminal whose death 
agonies they had come to witness. 
The priests moved about in pompous 
activity; a few of the chief ones went 
up to the summit to inspect the 
preparations at close range. Others 
guarded Jesus. Grimacing faces leaned 
over Him, marked with hatred and 
with every evil passion. 

Midway between Calvary and the 
new tomb of Joseph of Arimathea, in a 
retired corner of the valley and opposite 
Golgotha, stood a group of weeping 
women. In their midst was one nobler 
of mien and more sorrowful, the object 
_ of the affection and sympathy of all. 
It was Mary, the Mother of the 
Condemned. 

“And all his acquaintance, and the 
women that had followed him from 
Galilee, stood afar off, beholding these 
things” (Luke 23 : 49). Near them was 
gathered a part of the populace, con- 
suméd with hatred. ‘And the people 


stood beholding and the rulers with 
[96] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


them derided him, saying: He saved 
others; let him save himself, if he be 
Christ, the elect of God” (Luke 23 :35). 
And passersby, the curious ones found 
always on the edge of a crowd, formed 
a second group, noisy and restless. 
For as Calvary was close to the city, 
the people flocked there, inspecting 
the mound and lingering, morbidly 
hoping to witness the suffering of the 
Victim at the moment of crucifixion. 
When Christ finally hung there, livid, 
His arms extended on the cross, then a 
cry of glutted passion rent the air. 

_ But now the attention of the crowd 
was focused on the soldiers who led 
a swaying, stumbling figure. A hush 
fell on the crowd. First the white 
garment was removed, then the red 
tunic; and the shivering body, streaked 
with blood and furrowed with blows, 
was exposed to the vulgar gaze. Oh, 
Jesus! no humiliation was spared Thee! 
“Because for Thy sake I have borne 
reproach; shame hath covered my 
face.” (Ps. 58 : 8) So hast Thou said 
through Thy prophet. 

[97] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


All was ready. The cross was laid on 
the ground, Jesus was brutally pushed 
toward it, and His body extended on 
the hard wood. Only the executioners 
were then on Calvary. From below 
their movements were followed with 
malignant attention. 

Jesus could not be seen, but from the 
crouching attitude of the soldiers one 
knew that the nailing was about to 
begin. An arm was lifted, the first 
blow of the hammer sounded in the 
still air; the first nail sank into one of 
Christ’s hands. Then blow followed 
blow in rapid succession. The dull 
stroke was heard as far as the ram- 
parts, so silent was the crowd that 
listened. 

Let us, too, approach, and listen, 
and count the blows! 

Brutality marked every movement 
and action of the crucifixion; even the 
sharp strokes of the hammer seemed 
to express hatred and cruelty. A 
soldier held the extended hand in order 
that the contraction of the fingers 


might not interfere with the progress 
[98] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


of the nail as it pierced the flesh. The 
one who wielded the hammer was 
seated almost on Christ’s shoulder; the 
others held His body, trembling, 
quivering with pain. The divine face, 
half-hidden beneath the meshes of 
His hair, was thrown upward, terrify- 
ing in its lividity. The right hand 
made fast, the left one was nailed, then 
the feet. The difficulty of fastening 
the feet made the torture unspeakable. 
The sharp quadrangular nails tore the 
flesh as they were driven in, up to the 
head, and then riveted behind. Christ’s 
form was stretched to its utmost 
limits, since the sagging of the body 
and the ever widening wounds must be 
allowed for in the nailing. The shoul- 
ders were wrenched out of joint; the 
dislocated bones protruded: “They 
have numbered all my bones” (Ps. 
21:18). The chest was cruelly thrust 
forward, and the trunk of the body 
pressed hard against the wood. The 
blood flowed in streams, and a quiver 
ran through the agonizing flesh. 

Then the cross was dragged : the 

[99 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


edge of the rock. It was lifted into 
an erect position by means of ladders, 
and fell heavily into the hole that had 
been dug for it, amid the moaning of 
the Victim and the delirious shouts of . 
the crowd. This rough jolting caused 
the blood to gush forth anew. 

And there Jesus hung for three hours, 
nailed fast, immovable, His blood 
dripping to the ground. 


[ 100] 


XV 


The Body W holly Dependent on 
Wounded Hands and Feet 


N THE fatal progress of Christ’s 
| Passion we see a steady curtail- 

ment of His liberty, each fresh 
privation occasioning a new form of 
suffering, until the last stroke of the 
supreme work of justice riveted Him 
immutably in pain. 

First came the binding with ropes: 
then the shameful delivery into the 
hands of the soldiers; the blindfolding 
in the guard-house, the fainting and 
exhaustion during the ascent of Cal- 
vary, and finally the nails that fastened 
Him to the cross in appalling immo- 
bility. 

Let us pause a moment and endeavor 
to form some idea of this last instru- 
ment of torture. Imagine a body 
suspended with all its weight on four 


gaping wounds, which are tearing wider 
[ror] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


apart ‘mintte by minute. It is an 
agony from which there is no escape. 
The least movement increases the 
suffering . . . and this horrible torture 
continues for three hours. 

The sick man on his bed of pain, 
can turn from side to side, and although 
this movement may not relieve him it 
at least gives him a little comfort or 
rest. But there on the cross, no rest 
can be hoped for, save in death, which 
approaches with leaden feet. 

Again, this particular form of suffer- 
ing endured by our Saviour, of neces- 
sity had to be. Men, in sinning, abuse 
their liberty, and the just and appro- 
priate punishment is the loss of liberty. 
As expiatory Victim the Son of man, 
who atones for all the sins of humanity, 
must suffer the loss of all liberty. It is 
by this loss that He saves sinners. 

The mob sneeringly cries out: “Come 
down, if You can!’ Hecannot. He 
is nailed fast. 

There are souls who complain of 
being bound to some heavy, crushing | 


cross, without hope of ever being free 
[ 102 ] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


from it here below. Come, stand at 
the Cross of Jesus. I come, my Re- 
deemer! Before Thee, immovable in 
agony, and before the nails which fasten 
Thee to Thy bloody task of redemption, 
I shall not, even in thought, desire to 
be relieved of a cross that Thou hast 
willed should faintly resemble Thine 
own. 

When the executioners had lifted 
their trophy, the bleeding Victim, on 
high, they passed to the thieves, and 
_ three crosses reared their ghastly forms 
on the summit of Golgotha. Then the 
barrier was removed and a rush was 
made for a better view of the Christ, 
suspended between two malefactors. 
“And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, 
will draw all things to myself. (John 
1's: 32): 

We can imagine the soldiers bracing 
themselves to hold back the onrushing 
crowd, eager to witness the triple exe- 
cution. In this onrush the holy women 
stationed near the mound, were carried 
forward to the foot of the cross. Al- 
though blinded with blood, Christ had 

[ 103] 


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discerned them in the distance; but 
even this comfort was snatched from 
Him and obscured by the faces that 
pressed in an evil swarm below the 
three gibbets. “They surrounded me 
like bees, and they burned like fire 
among thorns: and in the name of the . 
Lord I was revenged on them” (Ps. 
£74212). 

To this burning hatred was added the 
cruel cowardice that abuses weakness. 
When the Victim was fastened and 
powerless to defend Himself, it would 
surely appear that the death which was 
about to claim Him would satisfy their 
revenge and still their hatred. 

Those who are really crucified with 
_ Jesus must pass through calumny and 
detraction. The world will continue to 
prattle about what it sees, and pass 
judgment where it has no knowledge 
of facts; but it will always judge falsely. 
Hence the just seek their consolation 
in the sole testimony of conscience, by 
which all will be judged on that Last 
Day. 

Moreover, where find the weapons 

[ 104 ] 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


to defend one’s self against evil 
tongues? Persecuted and pursued by 
his enemies, David cried out: “Lord, 
render mute these mouths of gall and 
protect thy servant against the evil 
tongues of his enemies.”” My weak- 
ness and helplessness cry out to Thee, 
too, O Lord! to be delivered from those 
who persecute me. But when I draw 
near the Cross, that target for the 
blasphemies of the populace, my love 
arrests this prayer on my lips, and I 
would drink of the very same chalice as 
my Redeemer. I shall drink of it, O 
Lord, and invoke Thy name as my 
strength and support! 

From the moment the cross was 
lifted, the heavens began to darken and 
the sun was veiled. “The crowd, ab- 
sorbed in the spectacle, seemed at first 
_ oblivious of this phenomenon; but 
gradually the light failed, and darkness 
fell upon Calvary, the Garden of 
Gethsemani, and the city of Jerusalem, 
and according to the Evangelist, spread 
over the entire earth. 

This weird night, acm sud- 

105 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


denly and hiding the divine Victim, 
threw consternation into the ranks of 
the spectators; blaspheming voices 
were silenced, one by one; the guards 
could no longer distinguish the figures 
of the dying trio and they were awed 
into silence. 

Terrified at this revulsion of nature, 
the crowd fled, leaving on the desolate 
summit only some moving shadows, 
lost in wonder, speaking in whispers. 
Under cover of the darkness, the holy 
women approached and unmolested, 
took their stand at the foot of the cross: 
Magdalen, Mary Cleophas, and a few 
others, and in the front rank, Mary 
His Mother, and one single disciple, 
John the beloved. Jesus, through the 
oppressive gloom, distinguished these 
faithful figures. His eyes rested long- 
ingly on them, but this supreme con- 
solation was at the same time another 
torture, for the sight of His Mother 
was a renewal of the meeting on the 
Via Crucis; and the presence of the 
Beloved Disciple was but a poignant 


reminder of the abandonment of the 
[ 106 | : 


THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE 


Apostles. Of the eleven, John alone 
was at the foot of the cross. 

Jesus gazed on them in silence. 
Between the first three words spoken 
by Jesus before darkness fell, and the 
last four, three hours of oppressive 
silence had elapsed. Three hours of 
immobility and darkness! Let us try 
to enter into this last anguish, to stand 
in the darkness at the foot of the Cross, 
‘to listen in silence, and imitate Our 
Lord! 

All methods of torture had been ex- 
hausted . . . . only death remained. 
‘His body had been struck and lacerated; 
all the sufferings inflicted along the 
road, had been renewed on Calvary. 
Every preceding torture was there re- 
peated with all the refinements of 
cruelty. The divine body was stretched 
upon the wood of the cross, where each 
torture could chant not only the hymn 
of sorrow, but also the hymn of victory. 

Beloved Jesus! it remains for me to 
penetrate still deeper into the fathom- 
less sea of Thy Passion, and from that 
mangled body my eyes turn to Thy 

[107] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


divine Heart, crushed, bruised, opened, 
pierced through and through. 

From my place on my knees at the 
foot of the Cross during these three 
hours of silence and obscurity, where I 
hear only the murmur of Thy suppli- 
cation, the moaning of Thine agony, I 
go back over the wave of sorrow and 
blood that swept Thee here, and seek 
Thy divine Heart, so cruelly buffeted 
by the waters of bitterness. Thy Heart: 
that has loved me even unto death! 

Oh! all ye that pass, pause a moment 
and see if there exists a sorrow that can 
compare with the sorrow of Jesus on 
the cross! | 


[ 108 ] 


PART SECOND 


Tortures of the Heart 


POG & a 
re 
3) f5 





I 


Outraged Dignity 

N STUDYING Our Lord’s suffer- 
| ings and His life during the days 

that preceded His Passion, we dis- 
cern in Himtwo dominant sentiments. 
The first was the comprehension of His 
own dignity; the second was a profound 
and lively tenderness toward those He 
was about to leave. In fact the prin- 
cipal thought—one that persistently 
found expression—was that His suffer- 
ings would be an occasion of scandal 
for Hisown. _ 

What more incomprehensible to His 
followers than that this messenger from 
God, this Messias, should be delivered 
over to the Gentiles, spat upon, crushed 
under foot, furrowed with stripes, 
crowned in blood, and finally crucified! 
And yet. Jesus must prepare these 
disciples of His for this very event. He 
does so by words, by veiled allusions, 
even, at times, by reproof. 


[rrr] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


“No, Lord,” protested Peter, “that 
can never come to pass! Thee, Lord, 
scourged and crucified!” ‘Verily, this 
is a hard saying and who can bear i:?” 

And yet, Peter, such will come to 
pass, and thou, in thy old age, when 
thou hast understood all, shall deliver 
thyself to the same cross, and suffer the 
same ignominy! : 

But the meaning of Christ’s words 
were hidden from Peter then. He, like 
the others, did not understand, just as 
we often find it impossible to under- 
stand the terrible necessity for the 
interior, the personal, the public Cal- 
varies which we must undergo. “It 
behooved Christ to suffer.” And God 
often uses our whole existence in an 
endeavor to make us understand the 
necessity of ‘suffering. Understand it 
we must, if we would be saved. | 

But in the meantime, Jesus was 
solicitous for His disciples. He warned 
them, turning for them, in advance, the 
bloody pages of the book of the Passion. 
He knew full well that He would be- 


come a repugnant object, from whom 
[112] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


~ men would recoil, shuddering,—a worm 
writhing in dust and blood, a ‘Man of 
Sorrows.’’ Yes, but behind this pitiful 
face there is a God: “Forget it not, My 
little ones!’ Because He is going to 
demean Himself, forsake His rank and 
position, descend into the depths of 
opprobrium, man must not forget who 
He is, whence He comes, and with 
whom He abides eternally. ‘A little 
while and you shall not see Me,” sadly 
He reiterates, “but know you, that 
I come from God, that I return to Him, 
and that I am one with Him. Behold, 
I speak plainly that all may under- 
stand.” 

“Verily Thou speakest the truth,” 
replied the Apostles, “and we believe 
that Thou art the Son of God.” 

“Ye believe. But when the hour 
cometh all will flee and leave Me.” 
With such mixed sentiments of emotion 
and feeling, Jesus affirmed His divinity 
at the very moment when it was about 
to suffer an eclipse, — 

An assertion of our rank and position 
before those who would vee upon 

[113 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


us, is but natural. All men of strong 
character and sterling worth owe this 
as a duty to themselves and the world. 
This personal dignity is the last pos- 
session a man is willing to lose. In that 
tragic, historical scene at Varennes, 
where the passion of the French royalty 
began, the king’s family was brutally 
cornered by a jeering mob in a common 
grocers shop. There, at the sight of 
Louis XVI ridiculously accoutered in 
the attire of a servant, the blood of 
generations of kings revolted in Marie 
Antoinette, and at the vulgarity of the 
surroundings and the familiarity with 
which the mob touched and handled a 
prince of the blood, she flushed with 
indignation and exclaimed: “After 
all, he zs the King!’ Alas, later on she 
was to pronounce those sad and touch- 
ing words: ‘We willingly accept a Cal- 
vary, if only we can climb it!” 

The proud consolation of being able 
to show one’s self great in suffering is 
not given to every man. In such 
moments one often falls, not only in 


one’s own esteem, but in the esteem of 
[114] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


the world. Jesus knew that even this 
particular humiliation was reserved for 
Him. While accepting it, His human 
nature clung to the respect and con- 
sideration of His disciples, and in His 
profound abasement He longed to feel 
that in the hearts of His followers at 
least, He remained a King. It is 
neither sin nor crime to suffer when we 
are set aside and humiliated, nor is a 
legitimate demand that we be treated 
with respect forbidden to us. 

This is most consoling, my Jesus. 
But it is terrifying to think that we 
may be called to suffer contempt, and 
to be dishonored by our own, that we 
may more faithfully reproduce Thy 
life and death in our lives, and enter 
into our passion humbly and with our 
heads bowed, even though they have 
been held high and are worthy of a 
crown! 

With our Master let us repeat that 
word so short but rich in meaning: 


FIAT! 


[115] 


II 
Emprisoned Tenderness 


HE second sentiment that filled 
Christ’s heart was a yearning 
desire to make manifest to His 
disciples His great love for them. No- 
where can we better witness this ex- 
pansion of love than in His intimate. 
conversations with them, on that last 
evening in the Cenacle. Long since 
had this place been designated for His © 
farewell and in the circumstances at- 
tending its choice His prophetic power 
had once more been affirmed. 
“Behold,” said He to Peter and Joli, 
“as you go into the city there shall 
meet you a man carrying a pitcher of | 
water—follow him into the house where 
he entereth in . . . and he will show 
you a large dining room, furnished; 
and there prepare’ (Luke 22 : 10-12). 
Thus Jesus saw all—the gate (prob- 


ably the one nearest the Sion quarter, 
[116] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


leading to the fountain of the Virgin, 
whence flowed the purest water in 
Jerusalem), the man, the pitcher of 
water, even the table laid for the re- 
past, and the couches drawn up around 
it. He had, indeed, many friends whose 
houses were open to him at all hours. 
And He has them still—His poor and 
chosen ones, upon whose life and sub- 
stance He can draw. 

Therefore, it was in that room that 
the twelve were assembled. First a 
_blessing was asked, all standing around 
the table, staffs in hand, robes tucked 
up, loins girded, sandals on their feet, as 
though about to depart on a journey. 
The paschal lamb occupied the center 
of the table, and with wild lettuce, 
was served to the Apostles. The re- 
past proceeded insilence, and when they 
had partaken of the customary meal 
that followed the paschal sacrament, 
the Apostles thought the ceremony 
ended, as in former years. 

But Jesus had something more to — 
say. He rose from table, laying aside 
His mantle and white ia <i 

117 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


only the crimson tunic. Taking a 
towel and tying it around His waist, 
He poured water into a basin and pro- 
ceeded to wash the feet of each of His 
Apostles, who sat petrified at this 
action. Never before had the Master 
manifested such preference and esteem! 
To kneel and wash the feet of His 
disciples! One readily understands 
Peter’s gesture of protest; it was be- 
neath the dignity of God, the Master. 
True—but this was the hour of love. 
“What I do,” He said, “‘thou knowest 
not now; but thou shalt know here- 
after’ (John 13 : 7). 

Such a descent from the divine 
heights, second evidence of His di- 
vinity, man can not understand all at 
once. If God did not perform actions 
beyond our comprehension, it would 
be that He was acting as man and not 
as God. Hence He washed and dried 
the feet of the Apostles amidst a 
silence fraught with deep emotion. 

After this ceremony they once more 
seated themselves at table, or, rather, 


reclined upon couches, with Jesus in 
[118] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


the center. John shared the same 
couch with Him, and had but to lean 
back to rest his head on the Master’s 
bosom. Peter was on a couch beside 
Christ, and Judas could not have been 
far away, since Jesus, handing him a 
piece of bread, spoke to him in a low 
tone, without being overheard. Again 
they ate and drank in silence, all hearts © 
filled with anxious forebodings, all 
eyes fixed on Jesus. The Master 
seemed sadder than was His wont. 
That He had a weight upon His 
heart was evident to all. Each saw 
and felt it as His gaze wandered from 
one to the other of the Apostles. He 
attempted to speak, then relapsed into 


silence . . . . a hidden sorrow 
oppressed Him. ‘He was troubled in 
spirit.” 


The expression of His face changed. 

“Amen, amen I say to you that one 
of you is about to betray me, one of 
you that eateth with me.” 

The Apostles were confounded, and 
“being sorrowful, and very much 
troubled,” they began * ayes 

I1lg 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Him, in turn. From all sides came the 
anxious query: “Is it I, Lord?’ 

“One of the Twelve. He that dip- 
peth his hand with me in the dish.” 

And Judas, Judas who betrayed Him, 
asked the question also: 

Ts it I, Rabbi?” 

“Thou hast said it,” answered Our 
Lord. No one heard these words, for 
they were uttered in a low tone. No 
one there save the Master knew that 
the traitor was present, and that there, 
even in the presence of such perfidy, 
Jesus was about to accomplish the 
prodigy of His love. Judas, the be- 
trayer, Judas, who had made his bar- 
gains with the priests, and in whose 
pocket jingled the thirty pieces of 
silver—the price of a God! 

Jesus knew that in a few hours He 
would be delivered to His enemies. He 
saw the clubs, the swords, the ropes | 
and the traitor, who came to betray 
Him with a kiss. Knowing that He 
was to be made prisoner, He took the 
initiative now and surrendered Him- 


self to humanity until the consumma- 
[120] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


tion of time, uttering words that 
should make Him a captive, bound 
forever, hand and foot, in the Prison 
of the Tabernacle. So does the love 
of Christ triumph over the malice of 
the world. 

The repast was drawing to a close. 
Before Him lay a piece of unleavened 
bread. He took it in His hand and 
blessed it and broke it, and gave it to 
His disciples, saying: 

“Take ye and eat. This is my body, 
which is given for you.”’ 

When Jesus yielded Himself to man- 
kind, He did it once for all. Never will 
He take back what He has surrendered. 
Through the ages He remains with us— 
and yet we give so little heed to this 
marvel of love. Let us beware of con- 
demning the apparent indifference of 
the disciples on that dread night when 
they deserted their Master. Our apathy 
and insensibility are equally great and 
certainly less excusable! 

The collation was finished in silence. 
Only the last ceremony remained to be 


performed before the final hymn; the 
[121] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


passing of the goblet of wine which be- 
gan and finished the repast, and which 
was drunk while giving thanks. Jesus 
filled the goblet, gave thanks, and 
handing it to the Apostles, said: 

“Drink ye all of this. For this is my 
blood of the new testament, which 
shall be shed for many unto remission 
of sins” (Matt. 26 : 27, 28). 

Jesus’ eyes seemed to follow the cup 
as it passed from hand to hand and lip 
to lip, until it reached Judas. Almost as 
if unable to contain Himself longer, the 
torture of His heart expressed itself in 
words. “But yet behold,” he ex- 
claimed, “the hand of him that be- 
trayeth me is with me on the table!’ 
(Luke 22:21). This expression ter- 
rified and startled the Apostles. Once 
more the confused clamor of interroga- 
tion resounded through the room. Andit 
was at that moment that John leaned 
his head on Christ’s bosom as though 
he would console Him, asking ten- 
derly, “Lord, who is it?” 

Jesus answered: “He it is to whom I 
shall reach bread dipped” (John 


[ 122] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


13:26). Into the ear of the beloved 
disciple Christ breathed these words as 
He handed to Judas a morsel of soaked 
bread. The traitor accepted it and at 
this moment his heart became a prey 
of the demon, as Holy Scripture tells 
us: “Satan entered into him.” He 
rose suddenly and Jesus, seeing him 
about to leave, called out: “That 
which thou dost, do quickly.” 

Judas departed. It was already 

dusk, but Jesus’ eyes followed him in a 
last look. And what a look! . 
When the door closed on the traitor, a 
sigh of relief escaped His breast, and 
His face lighted up. “Now is the Son 
of man glorified, and God is glorified in 
him”. (John 13 : 31). 

Since the treachery of Judas, to be 
betrayed by a loved one has ever been 
the keenest suffering known to the 
human heart, and God does not spare 
even this to those who aspire to re- 
semble His Son. In this we see again 
the characteristic of the Passion, and 
he who possesses this mark, possesses 
a sure pledge of salvation. 

[123] 


Ill 
Uncomprehended Farewell 


HE departure of Judas was a re- 
lief. For more than a year Jesus 
had lived in intimate converse 
with him, and the memory of this ten- 
der intercourse was now so painful to 
the Saviour that, goaded by intense 
agony of heart, He called one apostle 
‘demon’. “Have I not chosen you 
twelve; and one of you is a devil?” 
(John 6: 71). ; 
Certainly never was man forewarned 
as was Judas. The obduracy of the 
sinner is a deep mystery. Jesus’ 
glance continues to fall upon sinners 
and traitors. In the same family, at 
the same table and hearthstone, He 
passes, “taking one and leaving the 
other.’ These mysteries of election 
are founded upon grace, the real life of 
our soul, and are at once both terrible 
and consoling. Terrible, because we 
[124] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


do not see their workings, and the out. 
ward life remains unchanged; con- 
soling, for the just who find therein a 
sure place of refuge from the contempt 
and neglect of the world. 
. The true family tie, the pure blood 
of a race, is the grace of God. ‘For 
whosoever shall do the will of my 
Father, that is in heaven, he is my 
brother, and sister, and mother’’ (Matt. 
12:50). The last election of God 
shall separate forever brother from sis- 
ter, child from parent, wife from hus- 
band, should one be found with grace 
like a lighted lamp in his hand, and the 
other with his lamp extinguished. How 
many united here below seemingly by 
an enduring love, are already marked 
for this dreaded separation! Hence 
the necessity of looking at life and the 
things of life in the light of eternity and 
our last end. 

Since the departure of Judas, a 
change had come over Jesus. He who 
a moment ago was silent and op- 
pressed by the presence of the traitor, 


began now to converse tenderly and 
[125] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


familiarly with His Apostles, with a 
special word for each of His dear ones. 
He addressed Peter, replied to Philip, 
interrogated Jude, questioned Thomas. 
“‘A little while and you shall not see 
me! 45 ott cots Wile Aieent! you 
without purse, and scrip, and shoes, 
did you want any thing?’ (Luke 
22:35). But they said: “Nothing.” 
Then said He unto them, ‘‘Then fear 
not. If I go, if I seem to fail you, I 
shall not leave you orphans: more- 
over, I shall return to fetch you, when 
I shall have prepared a place for you on 
high, near my Father.”’ 

“What words are these?’ murmured 
the Apostles. “Yet a little while?’ 
What could that mean? ‘‘Whither 
goest Thou, Lord? Show us Thy 
Father and we shall be content.” They 
pressed Him with questions, not under- 
standing His meaning. 

Jesus did not rebuff them. This 
chapter of tender solicitude was to 
know no end: for now began the 
preaching of a new precept. “‘Love one 


another,” He says to them, “‘always.”’ 
[126] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


Everywhere, love, love! In truth this 
is a new law, following upon hatred, 
the result of sin. He who lives in an 
habitual state of sin, becomes bad, hard, 
and cruel, and he who refuses God’s 
yoke is impatient of any other. Love 
is the new word. 

When confronted with evil, do not 
return evil, but repay it with good. 
This new law of charity is an un-— 
heard-of doctrine, elevated, strange. 
To do good to those who injure us is 
something unlooked-for, unexpected: 
but that is charity. To pray for our 
persecutors, stranger still! That again, 
is charity. .To greet an enemy, to 
serve the ungrateful, to forget injuries, 
to smile at those who wound us, to be 
patient with the violent, submissive 
to the proud and overbearing, and 
everywhere and always to do good for 
evil! Truly this new teaching is indeed 
the divine charity given to men that 
night in the Cenacle at the washing of 
the feet, and at the institution of the 
Fucharist. 


[127] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


After the sacrilege of Judas and his 
kiss of betrayal, the sworn fidelity of 
Simon Peter and his denial, the pro- 
testations of the disciples and their 
flight in the Garden of Olives, Christ 
practised the first act of divine charity 
when He healed the ear of Malchus, 
who had come to arrest and bind Him. 
His first word was for Judas: ‘Friend, 
-whereto art thou come?” But the sub- 
lime act of charity was the Passion: 
and until time is no more, divine 
charity can express itself in no other 
terms save love and forgiveness. 

Hence it is not surprising that world- 
lings do not understand charity, true 
charity, which, like faith, is practised 
in interior warfare, in victory over self, 
the charity that is unlooked for and, at 
times, is passing strange. Too well we 
know the counterfeit charity marked 
as a vague philanthropy which costs 
nothing and gains praise. The Chris- 
tian must hide his deeds of love and 
service that they may be seen by God 
alone, who leaves no virtuous act un- 


rewarded. 
[1281 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


Tue time sped by all too rapidly in 
these last colloquies. Jesus rose. ‘“‘Let 
us go,” He said. The Hallel, the hymn 
of thanksgiving, was recited, and the 
little band left the Cenacle. 

Night had fallen when Jesus and His 
Apostles passed through the winding 
street. And the Master knew that in a 
few hours He would pass, a bound 
criminal, through this narrow way 
which was littered with broken glass 
and pottery from the stalls of the ven- 
dors who bartered their wares at the 
gate. Around Him silence reigned, 
- but from afar were wafted the strains 
of the Hallel, being sung in the houses 
at the termination of the Paschal re- 
past. One by one the lights were ex- 
tinguished. The little band of silent, 
deeply moved men descended the abrupt 
slope of Mount Ophel as it followed 
the valley of Josaphat, and ended at the 
stone bridge over the Cedron opposite 
the tomb of Absalom. 

Beyond lay the silent Garden of 
Olives, its pale foliage bathed “ the 

[129 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


light of the full moon. Looking toward 
the vineyards discernible upon the 
rocky slope of Mount Ophel, the Mas- 
ter stopped. Here indeed was an illus- 
tration of the words He had spoken 
in the Cenacle—these branches pruned 
and bound to stakes brought out vividly 
His phrases: | 

*‘T am the vine; you are the branches; 
he that abideth in me, and I in him, 
the same beareth much fruit” . 
(John 15 : 5). 

It was indeed as if He would say now: 
“See how deeply and closely these are 
cut in order that they may bear fruit 
more abundantly! You also shall be 
cut down to the stem, and tied to the 
stake by my heavenly Father, that 
your sanctity may increase, and with it 
your power of production unto good.” 

“All you,” He added, “shall be 
scandalized in me this night. For it is 
written: I will strike the shepherd, and 
the sheep of the flock will be dispersed.” 

And Peter, answering, said to Him: 
“T will never be scandalized in thee.” 

[130] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


‘‘Amen—lI say to thee, that in this 
night before the cock crow thou wilt 
deny me thrice” (Matt. 26 : 31-34). 

In the far East the cock crows with 
almost mathematical precision, about 
midnight and, a second time, between 
two and three o’clock in the morning. 
As Jesus pronounced this warning, 
Peter’s denial was ringing in His ears. 


Gazinc into the future He heard 
also, my betrayals and saw my falls, 
after my repeated protestations and 
vows of love. But no ingratitude on the 
part of His creatures could turn Christ 
from His sacrifice of love, although He 
knew in advance the blood He would 
spill and the tears He would shed over 
their betrayals. 

In approaching the bridge, the vale 
of Cedron narrowed suddenly and 
deepened into a steep path which the 
gloom of night, and the tangled 
branches of dark brush rendered diff- 
cult to discern and follow. About the 
tomb and in the trees, weird sounds of 
fluttering were heard from flocks of 

[131] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


doves, for this was their favorite 
gathering-place, and here they were 
trapped for the sacrifice. The Cedron 
at this point was a shallow stream, red 
with the blood of the sacrifices emp- 
tied into its wild and rocky bed by 
means of subterranean conduits run- 
ning from the rock of Moria. 

Here Jesus stopped: His hour of 
darkness was approaching, and He 
knew that once this brooklet was 
passed, He would leave behind His 
strong and radiant divinity. One 
inioment still remained in which to be 
Himself, fair of face, great and gentle, 
tender for His own, speaking to them 
with authority and free to lift His eyes 
to His Father. After that He would 
belong to divine justice. So He stopped, 
consecrating this last moment to a 
prayer for those He had loved so 
deeply. Never was prayer at once 
more tragic and heartbreaking. Of- 
fered in this dolorous setting; sur- 
rounded by the anxious and terrified 
eleven, Jesus, His white figure towering 
in the darkness, with uplifted hands, 

[132] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


breathed forth, trembling, His last 
petitions of love. And then, in pro- 
found silence, He crossed the Cedron 
and entered upon His Passion. 


[133] 


IV 


Sadn ess—Disgust— Terror 


HE path leading to the Garden 

of Gethsemani was cut in the 

rock. It passed before the tomb 
of Absalom heaped with stones, and rose 
from then on between crumbling stone 
walls. 

That night the garden lay bathed in 
moonlight, the shadows of walls, cy- 
presses and olives lying dark on the 
illumined landscape. After crossing 
the stream, Jesus walked on ahead as 
was His wont, toiling up alone, His 
body now and then touching the walls 
as though He would lean against them 
for support. Behind came the Apostles 
watching His faltering movements and 
unsteady gait. An ominous silence 
weighed upon this laborious climb, 
rendered more oppressive by a word 
from Christ, as He halted at a point in 
the rugged path, seemingly unable to 

[134] | 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


advance further. As He turned to~ 
ward them, the Apostles fell back, dis- 
mayed at His ghastly pallor. 

What a contrast! Only a few 
moments before, He it was who had 
dispelled their fears; and courage, 
strong and vivifying, had emanated 
from Him to uphold their faltering 
hearts. So short a while before His 
voice had risen, steady and vibrating, 
like incense to the throne of His 
Father, in petition, nay, almost in com- 
mand, expressing His will. But now, 
not only was there no petition, but He 
seemed incapable even of praying alone, 
since He said to His Apostles: “‘Sit 
you here, till I go yonder and pray”’ 
(Matt. 26 : 36). 

Dreading solitude, He took with 
Him the three favored ones, Peter, 
James and John, saying “‘My soul is 
sorrowful even unto death; stay you 
here, and watch with me” (Matt. 
26 : 38). 

What a change! He was no longer 
the same. The Apostles were mysti- 
fied; they had never seen Him a9 de- 

[135 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


pressed, so wavering, so much a mere 
man like themselves! Sad unto tears 
He had at times appeared, even moved 
to anger, and at certain moments 
severe, but always was He master of 
Himself. Now the hand at the helm 
had lost its grip, and His soul floated, 
_ a wreck, at the mercy of angry and in- 
visible waves. How could it chance 
that He, their leader, should be dis- 
couraged and sad unto death, afraid 
and weary to the point of exhaustion? 
And going a stone’s throw away from 
them, He knelt down, falling flat upon 
His face on the ground. A pleading 
voice sounded: “My Father, if it be 
possible, let this chalice pass from me. 
Nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou 
wilt” (Matt. 26:39). There was 
terror, and supplication in His tones. 
Yes, He was changed—for now He 
was on His knees and had lost all sem- 
blance of control. ‘Father,’ rose that 
refrain; always the self same word and 
the same petition: “Father, all things’ 
are possible to Thee: remove this 


chalice from me!” 
- [136] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


In sorrow three Apostles who had 
seen Him glorious, resplendent and 
dazzling as snow on Mount Thabor, 
now beheld Him lying face downward 
on the earth. ‘What a lamentable 
posture!’’ (Bossuet). 

This prostrate form could not be the 
Master. Well might the three, espe- 
cially Peter, recall that day when 
Christ had taken him aside lovingly 
to relate to him what was to come to 
pass—Peter had protested and rebuked 
Him, saying: “Lord, be it far from 
thee, this shall not be unto thee!” 
(Matt. 16 : 22). No, Lord! Thee to be 
delivered, scourged, crucified! And 
the Master had replied in a loud voice: 
“Go behind me, Satan, thou art a 
scandal unto me: because thou sayour- 
est not the things that are of God, but 
the things that are of men” (Matt. 
16 : 23). 

And now behold this thing of God, a | 
prostrate creature, praying, suppli- 
cating, imploring grace! “And I have 


a baptism wherewith I am to be 
[137] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


baptized: and how am [I straitened until 
it be accomplished?” (Luke 12 : 50). 

Why with such ardor manifested in 
advance, fail so in courage when the 
moment arrives? The Apostles “‘slept 
for sorrow” (Luke 22:45). They 
too, sank to earth, exhausted. And He, 
rising up from His prayer, found them 
lost in slumber. A voice startled them; 
a hand was laid on them. “Simon, 
sleepest thou? Couldst thou not watch 
one hour?” 

They opened their eyes. Before 
them He stood sorrowful. ““Why sleep 
your .-. . . Arise, watch ye, and 


39> 


pray yor 2 
Was it a dream? They stammered; 


they had no words with which to reply, 
and they fell back heavily to earth. 
Jesus turned away discouraged, be- 
reft of human help; and once more 
He fell on His face, moaning the 
petition that was wrung from Him by 
. sadness, disappointment, and fear. 


[138] 


V 


Agony 


NLY great souls can be heroic 
() in solitude. Courage is often a 

flame lit by the presence of 
enemies or friends who censure or ap- 
plaud. Fortitude in the face of death 
may be maintained when there are 
spectators and an appropriate setting. 
The man led to execution instinctively 
recoils from death and not infrequently 
controls himself only through fear of 
being thought afraid. This is another 
form of fear. No man who goes to 
death escapes that interior struggle to 
live. The dying, expiring on a bed of 
illness, are not exempt from this agony, 
often more cruel than death itself, 
which is, in fact, a deliverance. 

The death agony rocks and tortures 
the soul, attacking it in every faculty; 
death forces an entrance, bathing the 
body in a cold sweat in this bitter and 

[139] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


last fight when the instinct to live 
struggles with the fear of dissolution. 

Even when death has apparently 
conquered, life retires into the far 
recesses of the soul, as to a last redoubt, 
and there clings on in those troubled 
depths, whence arises, as from Geth- 
semani, that same cry of distress and 
supplication: ‘Father, if it be pos- 
sible, let this chalice pass.’’ The last 
agony is the fear of dying and sorrow 
at leaving life; it is the instinct that 
clutches and holds to the mortal ruin 
that to-day is called a body, to-mor- 
row, a corpse. 

Christ’s agony was undoubtedly of 
this nature. Let us try to understand 
it as such without any attempt to 
palliate i it, for in so doing we, who must 
agonize xsl die, would deprive our- 
selves, in the fear and darkness of 
death, of the strength and consolation 
of saying: He knew fear before me; 
I tremble, but He also trembled; I 
want to live, and He also clung to life. 

How consoling it will be for you, 
poor soul at bay, to repeat with the 

[140] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


last movement of your pale lips: 
“Father, if thou wilt, remove this 
chalice from’ me: but yet not my will 
but thine be done.” (Luke 22 : 42). 
Fiat: Amen. 

A whole world of meaning is com- 
prised in those two words, more es- 
pecially in the last one: ‘Amen’, ‘So 
be it’, ‘The end of all’, ‘God Wills it’, 
Amen. Even so, glory to Him, to the 
Father, and to the Holy Ghost! My 
soul flickers to extinction, I am com- 
sumed; eternity is here. Amen. So 
be it! 

Fear, then, is the dominating senti- 
ment, ep of the end, of death. And 
what a terrifying end awaited Jesus! 
It was the dread of the execution that 
prostrated Him to earth; He; the Son 
of man, like unto us in flesh and blood. 
But His agony is our support and con- 
solation: His bitter struggle between 
life that holds fast and death that 
battled to enter; bathing His body in a 
cold and bloody sweat that streamed 
from every pore. 

[141] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


But this was not all. To it was 
added horror and fear of the justice of 
God about to fall on Him, the prom- 
ised Victim, long-awaited and guarded 
tenderly, as it were, for this hour. 
Christ had bound Himself with sub- 
lime imprudence, to go security in this 
hour for all sinners, yes, for all men. 
The contract is sealed—He cannot 
escape—and now the time of settlement 
has come, that terrible day of reckoning 
when He must pay to the last farthing. 

We shut our eyes and turn our 
thoughts from this tormenting truth, 
but of what avail? The day of reck- 
oning shall come for us as it did for 
the Saviour. The consciousness of our 
manifold sins should keep this truth 
ever present before us. In witnessing 
the trials and sufferings of others, 
particularly of the just, we should 
ponder and say: How is it with me? 
What suffering awaits me? When will 
that dread hour strike for me, when I 
must render an account of my steward- 
ship, and where shall I find the spiritual 
treasure with which to liquidate my 

[142] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


debt? O God, the weight of divine 
justice lies heavy, too, on Thy creature! 

But as if this were not enough to 
burst asunder the veins of His body 
and tear the fibersof the Heart of Jesus, 
a more crushing weight is added,—the 
clear and precise knowledge that His 
agony and death will not avail for all 
men. What refinement of suffering, to 
labor for naught, to descend to such 
depths in shame and blood for such 
meager results! The salvation of man- 
kind would be secured, but only for the 
elect few; and by a stupendous mys- 
tory, even among these elect, there will 
be many who will owe their eternal 
happiness but to Christ’s boundless 
mercy. Well might He ask: ‘‘What 
profit is there in my labor?’ (Ps. 
29 : 10). 

Thus all forces worked together to 
overwhelm the Redeemer: the natural 
fear of death, the dread of suffering, 
the futility of the sublime effort to save 
the entire world, Hisinability to pay the 
debts of the human race save with His 
blood, the weight of shame that crushed 

[143] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Him before the court of heaven, the 
abandonment of the Apostles, and the 
growing distrust that was working in 
them—for Jesus read their thoughts, 
saw their astonishment, knew they 
were scandalized, and that they felt 
almost contempt for His weakness and 
fright—and heavier than all this to 
bear, was the anger of His Father, who 
would crush Him, and justly, to the 
earth. 

He could not say that these suffer- 
ings were too great or unjust. No, they. 
had to be. The martyrs were upheld 
by the consciousness of their innocence; 
Jesus was crushed by His full peulioae 
tion of what it meant to be charged, 
even though through love, with the foul 
deeds of men. | 

Verily, nothing could be added to this 
deep sea whose stormy waves rolled in 
from every direction, covering Him 
with the billows of measureless humilia- 
tion. 


[144] 


VI 
The Silence of the Father 


LAS! This was but the entrance 
A into the bitter sea of the Pas- 
sion, where Jesus was to sink 
from humiliation to humiliation. His 
unspeakable discouragement would have 
lacked a special and refined pain; had 
it not been ordained that He must seek 
exterior help and be refused. He, the 
strong, the great, the Master, appealed 
for consolation to His Apostles—He is 
a broken reed that would lean on 
others. 

In this garden swept by the terribie 
wind of God’s inexorable justice, the 
Master and His Apostles lay pros- 
trated; the Master extended His hands 
in supplication, but the Apostles were 
benumbed, devoid even of pity, save 
for themselves. He who had restored 
their courage and calmed their fears on 
the turbulent sea of sua rye now 

145 | 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


cowered before them, and by His atti- 
tude, His pallor, His trembling words, 
betrayed that emotion which humil- 
lates a man in his own eyes and in the 
eyes of other men—fear. 

The sight was a fresh shock to the 
Apostles, whose faith would, seemingly, 
now become as dull as their eyelids, as 
halting as their words. Losing of con- 
fidence in us always precedes the flight 
and abandonment of those upon whom 
we have a right to count, and who 
desert us because our companionship 
is no longer an honor, or because our 
friendship is a danger. This particular 
pang, like the other sufferings that 
caused Jesus the greatest pain, had 
been foretold by the prophets: “TI 
sought among those about me, and I 
found no one.” . . . . “I am be- 
come a reproach among all my enemies, 
and very much to my neighbors; 

a fear to my acquaintance. They that 
saw me without fled from me. I am 


forgotten as one dead from the heart”’ 


(Ps. 30 : 12, 13). 
[146 ] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


For indeed it is true that great souls 
must not behave as men, save at the 
cost of losing the esteem of men. 
True humility is incomprehensible to 
the majority. 

When Jesus saw that human help 
had failed Him, He turned in des- 
peration to heaven. For more than an 
hour He knocked at the door of God’s 
heart with the word that hitherto had 
never failed to conquer; “Father, all 
things are possible to thee! If it be 
possible, Father.’”? What sweet humility 
in this tenderest of words! But the 
Father remained deaf to the cry of His 
trembling Son. Tears and blood flowed, 
yet no help or pity came from on high. 
We all know such hours, and it was to 
comfort and sustain us that Jesus felt 
them also. 

Since that night and that agony, 
what if the world rejects us and we 
seem abandoned by God? We have 
one great help and refuge in the cruel 
sufferings and abandonment of Christ, 
where our cry of distress will ever find 
an echo. Thou, my Saviour, at least 

[147] 


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Thou canst understand! ‘For we have 
not a high priest, who can not have 
compassion on our infirmities: but one 
tempted in all things like as we are, 
without sin!’ (Heb. 4:15). It is cer- 
tain that God has always had pity on 
man, His supreme work; but since the 
time of Christ Our Lord, a new word 
designates the pity from on high that 
stoops to heal all wounds because He, 
Himself, has felt them. It is the word 
compassion! We have a God who feels, 
who bears our infirmities, 

While our divine Saviour bared His 
Heart to the sword of sorrow in order 
that He might experience and compas- 
sionate men’s sufferings, the heavens 
seemed to open, and a shaft of light 
pierced the night and fell upon this 
body in pain, this soul in agony. The 
Father had heard! 

The Son lifted His head to look upon 
that august face, and to hear those 
words of comfort. He saw but an 
angel. More than this the Gospel does — 
not tell us. Piety and mysticism have 


taxed their ingenuity to discover the 
[148] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


person of this angel. Was it Michael 
or Gabriel? Surely it would only have 
been one of the highest of the celestial 
spirits. But we must be satisfied with 
the simple text—‘“‘and there appeared 
to him an angel from heaven, strength- 
ening him’ .. . . (Luke 22 : 43). 

God did not speak; gone was the time 
when a voice from on high, gentle as 
the dove of baptism, mighty as the 
thunders on Mount Thabor and in the 
Temple; proclaimed: ‘“This is my be- 
loved Son, inwhom I amwell pleased.”’ 
(Matt. 3:17). In this hour of divine 
justice, there is no son, no God—only 
the sinner, the universal sinner. 

Yet God sends even to the sinner the 
angel that was promised, but only an 
angel. And what does he do? Hecom- 
forts, he has come to fortify and give 
courage. Jesus listened with bowed 
head and joined hands, grateful, for 
His need was sore. 

Let us not seek to penetrate the mys- 
tery_of that heavenly and divine inter- 
view, but on bended knees, gladden our 
hearts with it. Jesus sccouh uaa 

149 |, 


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from an angel, and it is for us to imitate 
Him in our hour of need. For whatever 
be his native or acquired force, there 
comes an hour, mayhap the supreme 
last hour, when man must seek help 
and strength. And God often permits 
this strength to come from one un- 
known or regarded lightly—in order 
that we may recognize our helplessness 
and weakness, and that, in our distress, 
we may turn to the source of all good, 
God Himself. ‘“‘Every best gift, and 
every perfect gift, is from above, com- 
ing down from the Father of lights, 
with whom there is no change, nor 
shadow of alteration”? (James 1 :17). 

In vain we plan our life and envisage 
our manner of dying, forgetting the 
ominous words, “I shall come like a 
thief in the night.”’ Like our agonizing 
Lord, we, too, shall seek and long for 
consolation. The suddenness of the 
last call, an unexpected absence, may 
find all whom we love at a distance, 
and our eyes may close on unknown 
.faces. Like Jesus, we shall seek sup- 


port in our supreme distress, and find 
[150] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 

only the hand of a stranger and the aid 
of the chance priest hurriedly called, 
when we had imagined quite another 
ending. Yet, let us bow our heads 
now and join our hands, accepting the 
consoling angel; thankful that in this 
we may be able to resemble our divine 
Master. Like Him, we shall gather our 
waning forces, and head up, go courage- 
ously to God! 


[151] 


Vil 
The Kiss of Betrayal 


UCH was the example given us 
S by our Saviour. Not only did 

He accept humbly the strength- 
ening words of the angel but promptly 
He rose to face His doom. The sounds 
of approaching steps, the clink of arms 
and the muffled hum of voices, broke 
the stillness; the flickering of the ap- 
proaching torches dispelled the dark- 
ness of the garden. The Master ap- 
proached His Apostles, struggling to 
consciousness from their heavy sleep: 
“Sleep ye now,” He said sadly, “and 
take your rest.” Then, with an energy 
that contrasted strongly with His weak- 
ness and anguish of a moment before, 
““The hour is come, and the Son of man 
shall be betrayed into the hands of 
sinners. Rise, let us go: behold he is at 
hand that will betray me.” (Matt. 
26 : 45, 46). 

[152] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


For the garden and the road travers- 
ing it were invaded, and a man was seen 
approaching slightly in advance of the 
soldiers and servants. It was Judas! 
What must have been the state of his 
mind at that moment? Cynicism, 
hypocricy, fear, possessed him. Did 
he, as some pious commentators affirm, 
wish to warn Jesus of the danger that 
threatened, and to impart the in- 
formation hurriedly under the cover of 
a kiss? Did he think that Jesus would 
escape as He had so often done before? 
It is to be doubted, since he appeared, 
on the contrary, to have forestalled 
“the ruses and tricks of the Maker of 
Miracles” in ordering the prisoner to 
be surrounded and closely watched. 
Rather, the prey to passion, con- 
vinced that all flight was impossible, 
all delay useless, the Apostle who had 
sold his Master resolved to show him- 
self for what he was. Rapidly and 
audaciously he advanced: “Hail, Mas- 
ter!’ and kissed Jesus. 

And the Master spoke to His traitor- 
apostle; the first words fraught with 

[153] 


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the delicacy of love: ‘‘Friend, whereto 
art thou come?” Then, in accents that 
betoken a heart wounded to death; 
“Judas, dost thou betray the Son of 
man with a kiss?’ (Luke 22 : 48). 

For God, who readsall heartsand for 
whom the past is as the present, had 
heard the words exchanged between 
Judas and the soldiers on their way to 
the Garden. Jesus was unknown to the 
men coming to arrest Him. They had 
asked: ‘“‘What is He like in face and 
form? It will be dark, His disciples 
are numerous and it is said that one of 
them, James, resembles Him. What is 
the colorof His garment? By what sign 
shall we know Him?” Judas had re- 
assured them: ‘‘Whomsoever I shall 
kiss, that is he; lay hold on him, and 
lead him away carefully.” (Mark 14 : 
44). Ah, Judas, the seal of friendship, 
to be the sign! 

The ingratitude of this betrayal 
produces wonder in one’s soul! Such 
an action seems past belief. Then 
come the pains of realization and un- 
told bitterness) He whom I have 

[154] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


called, who shared My life and My con- 
fidence, he for whom | had reserved the 
highest dignity to which man can at- 
tain, My Apostle, a founder of My 
Church! From an enemy or from one 
indifferent to Me! But thou, Judas, 
My friend! Why hast thou done this 
thing? 

Every sinner is an ingrate, but there 
are degrees of sinning. And when 
sinners are found among Jesus’ friends? 
The gravity of sin is measured by mat- 
ter and intention—but also by the 
signal graces and the infinite delicacy 
of the love so often betrayed and sold. 
All these iniquities were represented in 
the drama of the Passion, each sin hav- 
ing its own role to play. When, in the 
_ glare of the torches, surrounded by 
menials and soldiers, Jesus felt Judas’ 
lips on His cheek, He accepted the em- 
‘brace because in it Heembraced all the 
secret and the public betrayals of His 
most cherished ones, His priests and 
religious. Judas was both priest and 
religious. 

[155] 


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The woof of the Passion was aban- 
donment. Disaffection and betrayal 
enfolded Him in their sinister embrace. 
Upon this tragic background the physi- 
cal sufferings and the humiliation of 
the Saviour were drawn in bloody 
strokes: but the supreme suffering was 
the rejection by His own—the rejection 
of Him who had loved so much, who 
gave only love! 

Yet this expiation had to be. 
Nothing wounds the Heart of God like 
the abandonment of His creatures. 
How explain, otherwise, the complete 
and sudden desertion of the Apostles, 
if not by the stern necessity of divine 
justice? For scarcely had Jesus been 
seized and bound, when all, without 
exception, fled precipitously. Not one 
remained faithful. 

Jesus had warned them of this. He 
had spoken of it to His disciples as the 
great temptation they must face: 
“Watch ye, and pray that you enter 
not into temptation. The spirit indeed 
is willing, but the flesh is weak” 


(Mark 14:38). This was the great 
[156] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


trial of faith, and great indeed was the 
temptation. All the faith of the 
Apostles, laboriously developed in their 
hearts during the three years of Christ’s 
public ministry, was at stake. The 
trial of their faith consisted precisely in 
this odious seizure of the Master in the 
dead of night, and of His submission 
and lack of power. And is this not the 
daily trial of our faith, especially in 
these days of quibbling and deceit, 
when God seems silent while the wicked 
prosper? Certainly it stretched one’s 
powers of belief to see in this man 
bound, struck, betrayed with a kiss by 
one of His own, a God, the only and 
mighty God! And likewise is it a test 
of faith for the just to see failure crown 
their patience, while success pursues 
the sinner. 

Jesus prepared His Apostles for this 
test by manifesting His weakness, His 
instability and anguish, to such a de- 
_gree that the blood oozed from His 
poresinan agony of fear. He had wish- 


ed His three best beloved to witness this 
[157] 


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terrible spectacle, but alas! the trial 
of faith was too strong even for them. 

Few souls accept Jesus humiliated, | 
few love Him bound, few adore Him 
crucified. Hence the Master repeats, 
“Watch and pray,” and the Apostles, 
far from watching and praying, slept, 
and thus weakened themselves. Now 
see them flying through the valley of 
Josaphat, pursued by fear, and torn 
with doubt. 

After all, who knew? The ancients 
were right perhaps! What could be 
said of a Being who allowed Himself to 
be seized in this manner and led forth 
bound as a malefactor? Even God the 
Father had no word for Him in this 
tragic moment. Had they been de- 
ceived? They fled, but found no cave 
dark enough to hide them. They 
sought refuge in the tombs, a fitting 
place to bury their faith and love. Ex- 
cept for the single Apostle found on 
Calvary, the youngest, not one dared 
show himself in the streets the next 
day. Those who later were to preach 


the supreme love of Christ on the Cross, 
[158] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


witnessed His dying, only at a safe dis- 
tance and even then the Crucified was 
hidden from their straining sight by 
the cloud of darkness that descended 
upon the entire earth during the three 
hours when Jesus hung on Golgotha. 

What a pitiful ending to the three 
years of love, of teaching, of intimate 
and familiar life with Him! Three 
years of sweet heart-to-heart converse, 
and then—abandonment and flight! 
But when we remember that our own 
abandonment of Christ was represented 
in this cowardly desertion, our judg- 
ment will be less severe. Who has not, 
at times, experienced confusion of con- 
science, overthrow of will! Sincere 
protestations of fidelity have not been 
wanting in hours of fervor, when the 
fire of our love seemed so to consume 
us that we could imagine nothing that 
could separate us from our cherished 
Master. Lord, we have prayed, “Grant 
that sin may never tear us from Thy 
loving embrace’’—and this cry of 
humility seemed to assure our victor- 
ious resistance, 

[159] 


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Then suddenly our soul, like another 
Gethsemani, was invaded; our passions 
were in disorderly riot, an army closing 
in with cords and chains, a spear that 
pierced, a sword that killed. ‘‘Whom 
seek ye?’ Jesus, this same Jesus, who 
is present in our heart! Peter, James, 
John, Andrew, beloved and privileged 
ones, defend your Master! Chosen 
souls whom God has taken from 
Thabor to Thabor, souls of priests and 
religious, the hour has come; do battle 
for your Lord! But instead it is too 
often a rout. The will turns from 
God, it flees dismayed, it falls. 

The first fall is followed by a second, 
and that by a third. The soul that 
climbed so high now sinks lower and 
lower, and like the Apostles, flees in 
complete disorder to the tombs wherein 
it would hide. And what does it en- 
counter there? The Jesus whom it 
has betrayed—waiting with open arms 
to take it back and love it once more. 
“O fountain of everlasting love, what 
shall I say of Thee?’ (Imitation, Book 
3, 10). 

[160] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


At the spot where Jesus was betrayed 
with a kiss, and where the flight of the 
Apostles began, the road passes through 
a waste and desolate scene marked 
only by a few stray olive trees. To the 
right between two walls, a path ends 
in a *‘cul-de-sac,’’ and there on a slab 
in the wall, worn by time, two heads 
are engraved, the lips of one touching 
the cheek of the other. This is the only 
record of that shameful betrayal. 
Would that a sanctuary of expiation 
could be erected there! 

The kiss of Judas has come down 
through the ages. It is still given, and 
Our Saviour, in accents no less acutely 
sorrowful repeats: “Dost thou betray 
the Son of man with a kiss?’ 

Let it be said of each one of us that 
he carries expiation in his heart. Let 
us kiss lovingly, secretly, the foot of the 
crucifix to make amends for the salutes 
of the Apostle who eee betrayed 
Our Lord. 


[161] 


VIII 
Denial, Thrice Over 


S the sorrowful Passion of Our 
A Lord develops under our eyes, 
two sentiments take possession 
of our heart. The first is humility. 
“For if in the green wood they do such 
things, what shall be done in the dry?’’ 
This comparison should ever be present 
toour mind. The second is confidence. 
My sins have been washed away; the 
hardest part of the expiation has been 
accomplished. I have but to apply to 
my soul the price of that blood. I 
know where and how it can be done. 
We cannot, however, do this without 
having the bitter consolation that we, 
too, were present to Jesus during His 
sufferings. We were present in the 
agonies of His Heart and the torture of 
His body. There will be no suffering in 
our lives that we cannot bring to the 


ocean of His Passion. The waves of 
[ 162] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


our sorrows meet there like a sea, 
blood mingles with blood. 

The memory of the Passion is as “a 
bundle of myrrh”’ that we have but to 
place in our bosoms to inhale its eternal 
perfume. Let us bury our face in this 
myrrh and bitter-sweet; occasions for 
doing so shall not be wanting. Love 
is born. And as Jesus goes forth 
desolate and abandoned, our faithful 
and compassionate love must accom- 
pany Him. 

Jesus leaves His Apostles. All is 
over. The final separation is at hand. 
Bound and led by the soldiers, He 
ascended Mount Ophel while the 
Apostles scattered. 

What a cruel solitude for the Saviour 
amid that rough crowd of men who 
led Him to His execution! What 
silence in His Heart in the midst of the 
tumult of the guards! Not one friend 
is present. Once more Heis before us, 
for that same solitude of the heart 
which crushed the Saviour we all must 
experience at times in life, especially in 


old age. Let us then remember that 
[ 163 | 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


there is another and a more terrifying 
solitude awaiting us in the Great Be- 
yond, when we shall appear alone 
before God. Where then shall we seek 
refuge? To whom appeal? What 
friend will aid? Where shall we find 
help? All have vanished; all that sup- 
ported us in life, even. the companion- 
ship of the senses, has deserted us. 
Oh, my soul, make friends to-day 
with your Judge! There is still time; 
to-morrow it may be too late! 


P ETER, who fled with the others, was 
seized with remorse and retraced his 
steps. He remembered his _re- 
peated promises of fidelity: ““Although 
all should be scandalized in thee, I 
will never be scandalized”’(Matt.26:33). 
Urged by the sting of conscience he 
went back, following the procession © 
at a distance. What were his feel- 
ings? Curiosity, perhaps; mingled with 
the desire to see how this would end. 
There was love, too, but it no longer 


had first place. Love that does not 
[164] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


rule is soon dominated by other emo- 
tions. In Peter it had sunk to embers. 
Of such feeble sentiments is our fidelity 
made. We are as smoking flax—and 
yet God accepts us if we will allow 
Him to revive the flame. Alas! how 
often we contend against Him! 

The lamentable episode of Peter’s 
fall was a natural consequence of 
Peter’s pride.’ Reaching the court of 
the high priest, he met another disciple 
at the door—and this man, knowing the 
portress, gained entrance for himself 
and his companion. The woman looked 
inquiringly at Peter, but he was oc- 
cupied solely with the object for which 
he had come. The second disciple, 
being known to the high priest, gained 
access to the hall, but Peter remained 
with the servants and soldiers who 
wete warming themselves before the 
fire, as they recounted the events of the 
day and the incidents of the evening. 
Peter was apparently an indifferent 
spectator—but then came the maid 


who had admitted them. As she saw 
[165] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Peter in the light of the fire she looked 
at him scrutinizingly: 

“This man also was with Jesus 
the Galilean,’ she said. 

“IT know not what thou sayest,” he 
exclaimed. He felt, however, that he 
could not keep up such denial, and 
withdrew toward the door. Two o’clock 
was striking, and the loud crowing of 
the cock fell on his ears. Another 
maid perceived him. 

“This man also was with Jesus of 
Nazareth,’ she asserted. 

And this time he denied with an 
oath, saying that he knew not the 
Man. Time passed. The buffeting 
of Jesus had begun. Jest after jest fell 
on the timid Apostle’s ears; blows were 
struck, and loud. guffaws followed. 
And after a little while they came that 
stood by: 

“Surely thou also art one of them?” 
they said. “For even thy speech doth 
discover thee!”’ 

Before this accusation a great fear 


consumed Peter’s heart. He daré not 
[ 166 ] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


admit that he had lied. So he burst 
forth into imprecations, explosions of 
wrath, cursing, and swearing that he 
knew not the Man. 

And again the cock crew. 

And the Lord, who was passing, 
turned and looked on Peter. Yes, at 
that moment Jesus emerged from the 
hall and crossed the court. At His 
glance Peter’s soul was shaken to its 
depths. He went out, weeping bitterly, 
and to the end of his life his soul was 
shamed at the remembrance of that 
look from the. Master he had denied. 

A word from Jesus had failed to 
touch the heart of Judas: ‘Friend, 
whereto art thou come?’ But one 
look from the Master melted Peter’s 
heart. This instantaneous repentance 
was Jesus’ only consolation during that 
night of suffering. 

Let us pause a moment to con- 
template Peter fleeing in the darkness, 
not knowing where he went, his soul 
in anguish, tears flowing from his eyes, 
sobs choking him as he repeated in- 


cessantly, “I know not the Man, I 
[ 167] 


¢ 


THE, ASCENT OF CALVARY 


know not the Man!’ Remorse com- 
pelled him to reiterate again and again 
the words that had wounded his dearly 
beloved Master. 

At the same time let us also con- 
template Jesus in that low room, clad 
in the garment of derision. In His 
Sacred Heart those words were echoing 
—those words of betrayal, “I know not 
the Man!’ Never until Peter’s dying 
day shall that cry cease to echo in 
Peter’s heart. And it was present in 
Christ’s Heart until He expired on the 
cross. 

What caused Peter’s fall? Was it 
the fact that he had exposed himself to 
temptation? No. ‘That exposing of 
himself to danger was only incidental 
to a duty he owed to Christ. There are 
perils we must face, or know ourselves 
for cowards. Did he really love Christ? 
Ardently. Words never failed him to 
express his love. Why, then, did his 
conduct contradict his professions of 
fidelity? Because Peter did not know 


himself. Because the love of God in 
[ 168 ] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


Peter did not have as its accompani- 
ment, true contempt of self. Had he 
suspected his weakness or his cowardice 
he would never have entered the atrium. 


We are fain to believe ourselves 
stronger and better than we are. We 
have hypocritical excuses for all our 
lapses, and rashly expose ourselves 
often. Rarely does the sinner sin with 
deliberate malice. The proof of this is 
that he is able to excuse his conduct 
to himself and others. There are 
always sufficient reasons for this or 
that action; there are sure to be 
extenuating circumstances. And he is 
quick to find them. 

Peter had desired to see how this 
affair would finish. Who can blame 
him? He forgot his weakness. He for- 
got that only a few hours previous he, 
like the others, had trembled with fear. 
It is true that he had turned in his 
flight and followed Jesus at a distance. 
Of all the Apostles he alone had re- 
turned. This gave him a secret feeling 


of superiority. Again he showed ignor- 
(169 |] 


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ance of self. He knew that he was in 
the midst of his Master’s enemies, and 
so he felt that he must show cunning, 
must tread warily. But betray, deny 
his Lord? Impossible! Nevertheless, 
he did so. Fear, terror, and the secret 
enchantment of evil seized him, car- 
ried him on. Did he imagine that there 
slept in his heart, that heart that had 
made so many sincere professions of 
love, such an abominable, shameful 
betrayal? Peter did not know himself; 
Peter thought himself stronger than he 
was, and so the temptation overcame 
him. 

What then of the sinner who plays 
with temptation? Can he hope to 
stand where Peter fell? “I am free; I 
know my duty, I know how far I can 
go; [ can draw rein when I wish; I can 
permit myself one draught from the 
alluring cup’. Unfortunate creature! 
Know you not, have you forgotten, 
that you put your lips to the cup at 
your own peril, that at the bottom of 
the cup from which you quench your 
thirst, lies intoxication? In the evil 

[170] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


that is trifled with, in the indulgence of 
the senses, there is a call as imperious 
as that of hunger and thirst. To par- 
ley with a temptation is to succumb. 
Tostand on the threshold of a tempta- 
tion is to enter in. To enter in is to 
fall. 

The Master said: “Watch and pray, 
that ye enter not into temptation.” 
Hence it is the door that must be 
guarded. “Father, lead us not into 
temptation.”’ Lead us away from this 
entrance, harmful and_ treacherous. 
Such was the Our Lord’s supplication 
to His heavenly Father. 

But the sinner’s self-ignorance is such 
that he not only excuses himself for 
encountering the evil, but also, for hav- 
ing committed the sin. Conscience 
accuses him, recognizing his fault. 
Still he will continue to argue the ques- 
tion, alleging that he was unable to re- 
sist; that he struggled at first, but was 
on slippery ground; that the battle 
was too fierce; that, against his ex- 
hausted will, fresh troops were ever 
arriving, and finally, that o* fight was 

171]. 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


unequal. Virtue can do nothing against 
numbers, he says. | 

Poor sinner! he is in the tragic situa- 
tion of an unfortunate creature who, 
falling from a roof into space, hangs 
for an instant over the abyss, clinging 
to a sharp projection. His support 
gradually gives way; unable to climb 
back he closes his eyes and falls, crying: 
“It is my fate!” 

This last cry accuses him. Since he 
knows the fatal abyss of vice, why 
fling himself into it? But he will de- 
clare, he did not know it, that he got 
entangled, that he lost his footing, was 
swept off his feet! Here is our great 
error! Peter was ignorant of his own 
heart, Peter was presumptuous. Un- 
der his good qualities welled up the 
secret springs of self-esteem; and this 
self-esteem, at the crucial moment 
overbore his love for Christ. 

Peter did not know, had not sounded 
the depths of his nature. Do we know 
ourselves? God is aware of our hidden 
weakness. He sends certain trials. He 
allows us to fall that our eyes may be 

[172] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


opened to the true condition of our 
souls. And only he who has a pro- 
found contempt for himself is capable 
of great things. When man ceases to 
love himself, when he lives for his fel- 
low-creatures, then and only then, does 
he live for God. - 

Jesus destined Peter for great things. 
He desired that His Apostle love only 
Him and His Church; hence He per- 
mitted this pitiful fall, knowing that it 
would tear the veil from Peter’s eyes, 
and lay bare to him his weakness. It 
would kill self-esteem, it would reveal 
to him his true nature. What we are 
in the secret recesses of our heart con- 
stitutes our worth. 

Peter must be made to abhor self, 
to see the vanity of self-love, in order 
that one day he may say sincerely and 
repeat thrice: ‘Lord, Thou who know- 
est all, Thou knowest now that I love 
Thee!” 


L173] 


IX 
Love Disdained 


ESPITE all obstacles God 

1) works as He wills with souls. 

He brings good out of evil, 

and in so doing, manifests His supreme 
and divine power. 

The tree which man plants produces 
fruit of its kind. Only God can bring 
life out of death and glory out of sin. 
Hence, a thorough knowledge of our- 
selves, a complete realization of our 
natures, of the weaknesses and faults 
that have caused our falls, will make 
us circumspect, humble, fearful of evil, 
and will give us, according to the words 
of the liturgy, (Secret, in Mass of Ist 
Friday of Lent), a readier continence, 
that is, a purity on the alert, as it were, 
a chastity that asserts itself even before 
the appearance of danger. | 

Peter in the future would be on his 
guard. He who was destined to com- 

[174] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


mand, learned now humbly to submit 
to others. The letters he has left us 
are redolent of humility, condescension, 
and indulgence. Perhaps he had been 
too vehement, and the generous im- 
petuosity which is his glory, had man- 
ifested itself in a brusqueness capable 
at times of touching an open wound too 
roughly. Henceforward it was with 
gentle, trembling hands and penitent 
tears he uplifted the fallen and bound 
their spiritual hurts. 

During the last persecution, when the 
promised martyrdom was at hand, he 
doubted his own strength and fled 
along the Appian Way. That terrible 
night in the atrium, that importuning 
woman, the bantering. soldiers, the 
crowing of the cock, his awful blas- 
phemy and denial—all these were 
present to his mind. “I know not this 
Man of whom you speak.” 

But the Master arrested that flight, 
warning him that the hour of his great 
test had struck. Filled with fresh 
courage he turned back; but so great 
was his contempt for himself, that his 

[175] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


last action, his last attitude, and his 
last words were those of humility and 
penitence. He asked to be crucified 
head downward, his head toward the 
ground where it belonged, in the dust. 
“T say to you, that he who humiliates 
himself shall be exalted,” and surely 
the angels must have clustered around 
that agonizing and venerable Apostle, 
as he hung there, his limbs stretched 
and fastened, his gray head in the dust 
of the earth. | 


Tov art Peter, and upon this rock 
I will build my church!” 

Peter knew what he was expiating 
by his sufferings, and -egarded all that 
befell him as a merited chastisement. 
He guarded jealously the purity of — 
suffering. So, in accepting our crosses 
as a punishment that is our due, we 
also shall escape the peril of vain 
glory, which is apt to attach itself to 
even such paltry miseries as we are 
able to support. In placing ourselves 
downward on the cross, acknowledging 


that we are not worthy to lift our 
[176] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


heads, charged as they are with sins, 
we suffer humbly—humbly but in- 
tensely, unconscious that in this lowly 
posture we are gazing directly into the 
face of heaven. Suffering, safeguarded 
and purified, becomes the glory of our 
life. We do not realize it, perhaps, 
but such are the triumphs of God, to 
which a self-seeking world is blind. 

Peter, as he fled dismayed through 
the vale of Cedron, did not regard his 
profound desolation as a glory. But 
Jesus, from the room where He spent 
half the night in humiliating suffering, 
followed His Apostle in thought, and 
closed the bleeding wound where the 
germ of humility, being planted, came 
to life, bearing fruit. 

But Jesus also followed another man 
rushing madly across the same valley 
of Cedron. It was Judas. This man, 
too, carried an open wound in his heart, 
deep enough to bring forth a rich 
harvest of humility. Even as Peter 
rushed from the atrium, so he rushed 
from the Temple after flinging down 
the thirty pieces of silver. Moreover, he 

[177] 


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had publicly confessed his crime. “I 
have betrayed the blood of a just Man! 
I have sinned,” he cried. The avowal 
was complete, yet he fled with dry 
eyes, screaming in his pain—too hard- 
ened for the sweet tears of love and re- 
pentance. 

So long, so long his soul had been a 
barren waste, and now no water could 
spring forth from it, even under the 
pressure of profound and humiliating 
sorrow! He despaired. He thought 
only of himself, and of the shame that 
should be attached to him until the end 
of time. His very name, Judas, was 
to be the supremest insult that could be 
flung at aman. It rang already in his 
ears. During that time Peter also 
heard pulsing in his brain, the word: 
“Renegade! Renegade!’ Both epithets 
are equally odious! Peter blushed for 
shame, he cried aloud in his sorrow. 
But he accepted the shame; he bowed 
his head and wept, forgetful of him- 
self. He did not dwell on the possible 
loss of the glorious choice Jesus had 


made of him as the Leader, the Founda- 
[178 ] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


tion. Only one idea crushed him:—he 
had betrayed ineffable love. 

“Filioli mei carissimi—my beloved 
little ones,’’ he will say, when explain- 
ing in his declining years the doctrine 
and life of his Master. ‘‘God the 
Saviour was kissed and betrayed by 
one of His Apostles. He was denied by 
another—and that other is I, PETER! © 
Ah! who can be sure of himself?. I say 
to you, my brethren, watch. Be ever 
on your guard against the evil that 
prowls about, waiting to devour you.”’ 

Peter accepted his humiliation. Un- 
til the end of time the Foundation 
Stone of the Church shall repose upon 
the betrayed and disowned Master. 

“And going out, he wept bitterly.” 
Those tears were the tears of humility. 
Until the end of his life, they flowed 
unceasingly like a spring of water that 
gushes forth from a fissure amid the 
lava and crumbling substance of a 
volcano in eruption. This spring is to 
feed the Church through all time. The 
soul that weeps is the rock that opens, 
and particles of earth remain hidden in 

[179] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


the fissure, where the germ of love shall 
be fructified by tears. 

The soul that loves and sins, weeps 
because she loves. Judas, loving only 
himself, could not weep, even though 
he had become an object despised in 
his own eyes. Hence only one thing 
remained—to do away with that 
contemptible self, that being with 
which he would no longer live, and thus 
efface his name from the memory of 
men. Such thoughts thronged into his 
mind as he stumbled headlong, across 
the torrent of the Cedron and through 
the tombs, bruising himself against the 
stones of the dead. Maddened with 
shame, he struck his breast; horror 
had seized upon his entrails, yet in his 
heart there was no love, no repentance 
—and the end is known. The unhappy 
man, trying to flee forever from the 
Master he had kissed and betrayed, 
fell into the arms of eternal and aveng- 
ing justice. ‘‘And he indeed hath 
possessed a field of the reward of in- 


iquity, and being hanged, burst asunder 
[ 180 ] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


in the midst; and all his bowels gush- 
ed out” (Acts 1 : 18). 

Yet, had he sought pardon, he, like 
Peter, would have been forgiven, and 
his sin obliterated from God’s memory. 
There was still a place on the Master’s 
cheek for the kiss of reconciliation, 
effacing the one of betrayal, and Jesus 
would have accepted it. 

The tears in Christ’s eyes, at that 
terrible dawn in the hall of Caiphas, 
were not alone for His own sufferings, 
but for the vision in the distance—a 
lonely field at the foot of the Mount 
of Scandal; a swaying tree, and hang- 
ing from it the body of His Apostle. 
Yes, and the knowledge that from that 
accursed spot His love, flung back at 
Him, was for the first time powerless to 
save, because it was disdained. 

With these two wounds in His 
- Heart, Jesus was to climb Calvary. 
That Heart of His was already open 
and bleeding. ‘The centurion’s lance 
pierced it, but Peter, and especially 
Judas, had already plunged the knife 


into living flesh. 
[181 | 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Prayer to the Open Heart of Jesus 


Lorp. if this Heart which I have 
pierced, denying and betraying Thee, 
is open, it is that an inexhaustible flood 
of love and pardon may flow from it. 
From fear of Thy justice, from reproach 
of conscience, and in contempt of my- 
self, | have sought a hiding place within 
it, as. within a mountain where I may 
bury my shame and my fright. 

Heart of Jesus, opened for love of us, 
Heart of boundless depth, in the abyss 
of Thy wounds, I seek shelter. Like a 
grain of sand thrown into the ocean, I 
lose myself in Thy precious blood. 

Oh! Eternal Justice, seek me not. I 
am lost in the bosom of Eternal Mercy. 
Amen. 


[182] 


, 
The Mockery of “Fustice 


HE soul that suffers seeks soli- 

tude. Absorbed in itself it is 

oblivious of all that goes on 
without. 

In the depths of Christ’s wounded 
Heart, strange dialogues took place; 
poignant scenes were enacted, and a 
cross-fire of words varied the sorrowful 
refrain: “Thou, Judas . . . . with 
a kiss!’ and then, “‘I know not the 
Man!” The brutal betrayal by Judas, 
the cowardly denial by Peter, these 
meant absorbing grief for the Saviour. 
And the Church also, acontinuation of 
Christ as is the Christian, must suffer 
these two betrayals. | 

Since the infliction of these two 
wounds Jesus had relapsed into silence. 
In silence He had crossed the Pre- 
torium; and before the court that was 
to try Him, He displayed the same 


impenetrable silence. 
[183] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


The natural impulse of one accused 
wrongfully is to refuse to speak before 
an unjust judge. Man innately pos- 
sesses such a love of justice, such an 
abiding faith in fair dealing, that he 
places it in regions far above the in- 
fluence of passion. When, then, jus- 
tice fails in its supreme duty, and is 
swayed by prejudice or partiality, he 
feels that the universe is crumbling. 

It is painful enough, indeed, to wit- 
ness the condemnation and punish- 
ment of a human being whose guilt is 
proven, but it outrages every noble 
sentiment to behold him the victim of 
hatred, prejudice, and injustice on the 
part of his judge. This betrayal of 
justice, this disillusionment, Jesus suf- 
fered when surrounded by hirelings, 
who bore the same flickering torches 
with which they had sought Him in the 
Garden of Gethsemani. But especially 
did He suffer thus in the presence of 
Annas the high priest. | 

One wonders why the prisoner was 
brought before Annas, for the post was 
now ol by Joseph Caiphas, his 

184 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


son-in-law. But though the Romans 
had deposed him and put Caiphas in 
authority, for the Jews, Annas re- 
mained ever their great, traditional 
high priest. Like all who have lost 
power and splendor, they seized upon 
every event and occasion to recall their 
dying glory. Jesus was brought before 
Annas as a protest against existing con- 
ditions. The whole proceeding was 
puerile, but flattering to the ancient 
judge, and a sweet satisfaction to his 
jealous ambition. Annas cherished 
the illusion that he governed through 
his son-in-law, whose appointment he 
had secured. He beheld in Jesus a 
dangerous rival of the old and now 
tottering priesthood. Their loss of 
prestige was keenly felt by the Jews. 
To the minds of the Jewish populace 
it meant an exercise of their rights to 
put the trial of Jesus under Annas’ 
patronage. 

Jesus understood their motives and 
felt the odium of the proceeding, and 
before He retired into that marvelous 


period of silence, He made it clear to 
[185] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


them that He had not been duped. 
Thus, at the first interrogation, He re- 
plied with dignity, designed to show 
that He was neither a common con- 
spirator nor.an obscure tribal agitator. 

The judge began by questioning Him 
upon His doctrine and His disciples, 
as though these were the sole charges 
at issue. 

‘ “T have spoken openly to the world: 
I have always taught in the Synagogue 
and in the Temple, whither all the 
Jews resort. And in secret I have 
spoken nothing. Why askest thou me? 
Ask them who have heard what I have 
spoken unto them: behold they know 
what things I have said.” 

The challenge was answered with a 
cruel blow. 

“If I have spoken evil, give testi- 
mony of the evil,” said Jesus, “but if 
well, why strikest thou me?” 

No answer could be given to this. 
That blow indicated the smothered 
hatred and ill-disguised venom that 
had taken possession of the judges in 


this hurriedly convoked assembly. The 
[ 186 | : 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


Prisoner had ceased to be one accused; 
He had no chance for His life, but was 
already a man condemned. 

Jesus then became silent. Why 
speak before judges who are not judges, 
but executioners? 

Annas also realized the futility of 
further proceedings. He hurried Jesus 
off to Joseph Caiphas, whose house 
stood directly opposite. There wasonly 
a large flagged court to cross, where the 
troops warmed themselves at the fire; 
it was the court where Peter made his 
first cowardly denial. Jesus was dragged 
along at a rapid pace, lost amid the 
troop of soldiers that surrounded Him. 

Caiphas’ court was crowded. Twen- 
ty-three judges, the minimum number 
required by law, were presiding at one 
end, and at the other was gathered a 
sordid crowd of paid witnesses. The 
Accused was stationed in the center of 
the hall, between these two forbidding 
groups of men. His white figure, noble 
and commanding, stood out like a light 
in that somber, evil gathering. Before 


Him were the judges and behind He 
[ 187 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY > 


heard the confused murmur of the mob. 

The interrogation this time was con- 
ducted in due legal form, every detail 
having been rehearsed, every precau- 
tion having been taken in advance. 
The secretaries were there, as well as 
the paid witnesses, gathered from no 
one knows where. Every eventuality 
had been provided for, save one, 
namely, Jesus’ silence. 

No questioning could open the lips 
that just pride had closed. The blood 
was still tingling in His face from the 
blow He had received, and He knew but 
too well with whom Hevhad to deal. 
His silence exasperated His judges, 
because it destroyed the effect they in- 
tended to produce, and brought all 
their well-laid plans to naught. For 
how entrap this man through His own 
avowals, if He obstinately refused to 
speak? Christ’s silence fell"upon them 
like a pall. To offset it all began to 
speak at once; judges, priests, and 
witnesses. Jesus alone did not utter a 
sound, and awed the assembly by His 


muteness. 
[188 | 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


Wa EN, in our own life, calumny and 
injustice seem to wreck our existence, 
let us at least intrench ourselves in the 
dignity of silence. God hears all; He 
sees our hearts; let that suffice. ‘“‘In 
silence and in hope shall your strength 
be.” (Isa. 30 : 15). 

Your strength, O soul disheartened 
and betrayed, lies in silence, not in 
justification, and in your trust in God, 
who is ever mindful of the oppression 
suffered for His sake. 

Exasperated at length, beyond en- 
durance, Caiphas sprang up from his 
bench into the hall, and approaching 
Jesus cried out: “Art thou the Christ, 
the Son of the blessed God? 

I adjure thee by the living God to tell 
us if thou be the Christ.” 

**Thou hast said it, I am, ” answered 
Jesus. 

A moment of stupor—then a great 
clamor of rage and protest followed. 
The maddened rabble fell upon Jesus, 
belaboring Him with blows, and drove 


Him out asa noxious object. ‘‘He hath 
[189 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


blasphemed! He hath blasphemed!’’ 
said the high priest; and to the accom- 
paniment of this cry He was dragged 
through the court, where He passed 
the soldiers, comfortably warming 
themselves, and heard Peter’s final 
denial, followed by the crowing of the 
cock. 

Then they threw Him into prison, to 
await the conclusion of His trial. 
Despite the incriminating avowal with 
which He was charged, a confession 
wrung from Him in the night at an 
illegal sitting had no force before the 
law, be its pomp and ceremony never 
so impressive. At the break of day 
they returned to the charge. The 
court was convened in great haste, 
though the setting was much the same 
as on the previous night. Witnesses, 
however, were not called, for now they 
had no need of them. 

Jesus was led in, again to be ques- 
tioned and subjected to fresh outrages. 
This farce of justice, this array of 
judges, this going from court to court 
was an insult, a bitter outrage to His 

[ 190 ] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


dignity. This care for the strict ob- 
servance of the law at the moment 
when it was about to be violated with 
unspeakable effrontery, was a dis- 
tinguishing feature that shall be repro- 
duced in the cause of all the martyrs of 
Christ. 

Dragged before Annas to satisfy an 
old man’s ambition; dragged before 
Caiphas, the first time, in the hope that, 
taken by surprise and with the aid of 
bought witnesses, damaging evidence 
might be obtained against Him; 
dragged before Caiphas a second time 
to hear the officially pronounced sen- 
tence of condemnation, that the court 
had long since privately decided on; 
all these ignoble proceedings would 
have revolted Jesus had He not known 
that thus He could expiate all human 
injustice. He saw in the future His 
Apostles, His faithful, His friends 
dragged from bar to bar of justice, 
from Pretorium to Pretorium. He 
knew that in a higher degree He 
merited for us that security and con- 
fidence of which we gic ao 

191 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY: 


when sin after sin drags us before the 
tribunal of penance in the presence of 
His priest—to go forth, not condemned, 
but absolved and delivered through 
His silence and resignation before the 
unjust sentence pronounced against 
Him. 

And when the morning was come 
the scene was repeated before the 
scribes and the whole council, and they 
brought Him in. 

“Tf Thou be Christ, tell us,” they ex- 
claimed, exasperated by the impassive- 
ness of the accused. 

“If I tell you, you will not believe 
Me. And if I also shail ask you, you 
will not answer Menor let Me go. But 
hereafter the Son of man shall be sit- 
ting on the right hand of the power of 
God.” 

“Art Thou then the Son of God?’ 

You say that I am.” 

This admission was all they wanted; 
here, to them, was proof positive of His 
guilt. But for us, it is the foundation 
upon which rests our hope and faith. 

[192] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


Jesus died because He affirmed that 
He is God. 

Never man, a mere man, were he 
“the greatest genius, the most captivat- 
ing savant, the most lyric, the most 
ideal of men” (Renan)—for all this is 
said of Christ, so as not to call Him 
God—never would a man have com- 
mitted the folly of uttering those words. 
Abandoned by His own, betrayed, 
denied, and without hope of seeing His 
work continued; yes, at the very mo- 
ment when all hope, help, and support 
are crumbling, twice in the face of 
death He affirms: I AM THE SON OF 
GOD. 

Either this affirmation is true, or it 
is false. If false, then the pitiful object 
in that court was a lunatic, or a man 
suffering from hallucination. Such 
people are placed under restraint, or 
pitied as harmless fools. They are 
never executed. To say that He is God, 
would harm no one, if it were false; but 
if it be true? 

Christ’s past, filled with miracles 
and prodigies; the doctrine He had 

[193] | 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


taught, pure and elevated; His calm 
and inexplicable silence—these were 
sufficiently weighty to give pause, to 
compel a fair trial for Him. But after 
a few hours of deliberation in the dead 
of night, His case was finished. The 
most elementary rules of equity de- 
manded fair trial, were there question 
of an ordinary law-breaker. But if He 
is GOD? 

Hence I say to all those who are op- 
pressors, to those scribes and priests, 
and ancients of the people, and still 
more to all unjust judges, tyrants and 
rulers, “one day thou shalt see the Son 
of man coming in the clouds in His 
majesty, midst the roar of thunder and 
blaze of lightning. Thou shalt see Him 
whom thou hast judged, and thou shalt 
in turn be judged by thy condemned 
_ God, for all eternity.” 


i194] 


XI 
Fickle Sons of Men 


NTIL that great last day 
Jesus kept an impenetrable 
silence. Let us enter into 
this silence of Our Saviour, so pro- 
found and full of meaning, at once 
awe-inspiring and consoling. Each 
virtue which Christ displayed in the 
Passion is like a mystic temple—and 
one enters into the courts thereof 
through a low door.» But, as one ad- 
vances, the temple is enlarged, the 
naves lengthen and the dim light en- 
hances its solemn beauty. The soul 
loses itself in the glory of the courts 
of God. 

What dignity in silence! What 
strength in that virtue which all souls 
must cultivate who are striving for per- 
fection! Silence about ourselves, about 
those dear to us, about our past, our 
present, our virtues, our faults; silence 

[195 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


upon all the details of our life;—perfect 
silence is the slow elimination of self. 
Nothingness guards silence. Nothing- 
ness makes no sound. To efface one’s 
self is to be passed by. Obscurity is 
never molested. 

Ah, if it be true that so much light 
is needed to speak wisely, how far 
greater is the need of such light if we 
would guard our silence. Lowered 
eyes, closed lips are double doors. 
They shut in the loved One who dwells 
in our hearts, alone with us, and we 
with Him. True love knows how to be 
alone with the object of its affection 
even in a crowd- but, by preference, 
it flees to the desert, which that dear 
presence transforms into a fertile land 
of promise. Solitude and silence break 
down the last barriers between two 
souls that love. 

From the moment Jesus left the court 
of Caiphas and faced the people for the 
first time, His silence deepened. We 
follow the silent figure through that 
boisterous, malevolent crowd. What 


harm had He done to those who now 
[196] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


surged so angrily about Him? Why 
did they hate Him? So short a while 
before these same streets had resounded 
with shouts of joy; palm branches and 
rich vestments had been strewn upon 
the ground that His feet might press 
them; hosannas had greeted Him; and 
as He passed through the Golden Gate, 
uplifted arms and waving branches had 
formed a triumphal arch above His 
head. 

But the crowd, on this day, had no 
soul. It was swayed from without. 
There were many winds to agitate this 
restless sea of revengeful humanity, 
whipping it into waves of fury, thirst- 
ing for revenge. Their hatred for the 
priests, their envy of the ancients, 
their fear of the Sanhedrin, act upon 
this maddened mass; Satan’s foul 
breath excites it, and the breath of the 
anger of God. 

The law of the mob is a strange but 
uncontrovertible fact. Men lose their 
reasoning powers in proportion to 
their numbers. A crowd composed of 
intelligent individuals degenerates into 

[197] 


THE. ASCENT OF CALVARY 


a blind mass. A moment since they 
were men—this mass that is now but a 
_huge child, fickle, changing, irritable, 
passing from laughter to tears, shouting 
in the same breath, “‘Hosanna!’’ and 
“Away with Him!’—capricious alike 
in its hatred and its pity. 

Jesus passed ‘through this ‘throng 
composed of His own creatures—a mob 
destined to be one of the principal and 
most painful instruments of His Pas- 
sion. The people are seldom considered 
as more than the background of the 
picture, but, like thunder clouds mass- 
ing slowly and finally obscuring the 
horizon, they gathered in strength and 
numbers from the tribunal of Caiphas 
to Calvary’s summit. Through this 
crowd Jesus was compelled to pass. 

Christ’s first encounter with mob 
law occurred when the herd of merce- 
naries came to arrest Him. When they 
seized Him under cover of night, they 
hesitated, as men unaccustomed to their 
task. Later this attitude changed into 
the brutality of the hardened con- 


science that has nothing more to fear. 
[198 | 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


The hirelings were soon reinforced with 
soldiers and paid witnesses. Add to 
them the priests whom we have seen at 
work, and you already have a crowd. 

But Jesus’ real contact’ with the 
populace took place in the morning as 
He emerged from the court of Caiphas. 
Day was breaking, the streets were 
deserted, save for the early risers, 
servants, and vendors of food, and 
some of the many strangers who filled 
the city to overflowing at the Paschal 
time. At first sight, for the common 
people as for the stranger, this Man; 
forcibly dragged to the Antonia from 
the Pretorium, was some night male- 
factor taken red-handed, and as such 
He would have commanded scant 
attention, had it not been for the 
presence of the cursing, wine-flushed 
soldiers, and more especially of the 
cortege headed by Caiphas, the priests, 
the ancients, all the Sanhedrin. Men 
stopped to whisper, to question, ‘‘Who 
is it?” 

“Jesus of Nazareth, the famous 
prophet!” Jesus of Nazareth! He 

[199] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


it is! Pale, bedraggled, disfigured, 
tightly bound! 

As the news spread, a fresh crowd 
gathered. This second mob that Jesus 
encountered was denser, for astonish- 
ment had succeeded curiosity. A dull 
murmur betrayed its irritation. It was 
said that He had tried to deliver the 
people to the Romans; He had been 
judged by the priests as a maker of 
magic, a disturber of the peace, a man 
who, through His spells and charms, 
could rob them of their last vestige of 
liberty; a scoffer, a blasphemer. The 
tide gathered strength as it rose, fed by 
the worst element among the people. 

And yet, what will men not do, not 
sacrifice for the deceptive popularity 
of the crowd? Its applause has en- 
snared many to entire forgetfulness of 
the reality that God’s approval is all 
that counts, that what we are in His 
sight alone matters. 

Jesus keenly felt the shame and 
humiliation of being dragged through 
the streets bound and guarded by 


soldiers. Owing to the earliness of the 
[ 200 | 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


hour, the traffic of the day had not yet 
begun. That deep suffering came later 
when, leaving Herod’s court, He, 
clothed in. the white robe of derision, 
appeared in the tumultuous streets 
and heard the titters of laughter and 
mocking words flung at Him as He 
passed. He was treated as a degraded, 
dangerous outlaw. His honor, His 
dignity, His pure doctrine, His re- 
splendent past, were all engulfed in 
the stream of jeers and hisses. 

Crowds, like children, love ridicule; 
they delight in the grotesque play 
which invites ready laughter. All 
refinement of feeling is lost, as the 
liquid notes of a lyre are drowned in 
the noise of drums. What object more 
ludicrous than the Wonder-Worker ‘in 
His white robe, pulled here and there, 
the plaything of the mob? Stumbling, 
swaying, He goes without a vestige of 
that bearing which wins the people 
and commands respect. 

Scripture does not relate what pre- 
cise insults were thrown at Jesus; but 


knowing the cruel taunting of the mob 
[201 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


on Calvary, it is easy to conjecture 
that the pleasantries that greeted Him 
were tinged with blood. (Bossuet, Third 
Sermon on the Passion.) 

“Hosanna to the Son of David!” 
they cried. “Hail to him who comes 
in the name of the Lord!’ These 
words, shouted in jubilation only a few 
days before, and still fresh in the 
memory of all, became cruel jibes. 
“Behold one greater than Solomon!’ 
they exclaimed, alluding to what Christ 
had said of Himself; and, bending 
obsequiously, “Homage to the Son of 
God, the Messias!’’ They seized the 
easiest point, exploiting it at the right 
moment. Many of them had been 
_ present at the night trial, and derisively 
repeated Pilate’s interrogation of Jesus. 
Everything lent itself to this mockery. 
The rude laughter of the troops, the 
sneers of a mocking and debauched 
_ prince in Herod’s court rang in their 
ears. Irony and sarcasm came easily 
to their lips. } 

They. were hurrying to the show in 


the Pretorium and the courtyard, their 
[ 202 | 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


numbers augmented as they pressed on, 
eager for amusement and a chance to 
see the fun. They would jeer when 
Christ writhed under the lash of the 
flagellation, as a worm trodden under 
foot, they’ would mock when the 
thorn-crowned Victim was solemnly 
exhibited before them. Moreover, the 
white robe was but the preparation for 
the scarlet garment—and now the 
wildest passions were given free play. 
Christ was thrown like a dry branch 
into the seething whirlpool of the 
people. He was sucked down in the 
contempt of the populace to His doom. 
And a yet greater humiliation was His 
than the contempt of the crowd—He 
was to fall in the esteem of those He 
- loved. 

Humanly speaking, to be despised by 
a swarming mass that does not know 
you, and that you do not know, is a 
wounding thing to pride. But to. 
be hooted and mocked by the very 
people who knew Him and_ had 
clamored to crown Him king! To pass, 
covered with mud, soiled with the dregs 

[ 203 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


of wine, through this crowd of Gali- 
leans, His compatriots who had come 
for the Paschal feast! To see Himself 
dishonored, not only in the eyes of His 
frightened disciples, but in those of a 
scandalized people! To assist, as it 
were, at His own degradation—this re- 
fined, this bitter suffering imposed by 
divine justice pierced the Heart of 
Jesus to the core. 


SHOULD such humiliation come 
upon us, let us not turn away from 
the knife that is plunged into our 
hearts; but welcome the wound, such a 
wound as our beloved Saviour has borne 
before us. For few are the chosen souls, 
few are the witnesses of Christ who have 
not felt the sword of humiliation in - 
their hearts. There are many who 
follow the Saviour closely, seeking 
occasions to crucify their pride, their 
natural yearning, that they may share 
His ignominy. Such, for example, were 
St. Ignatius, humiliating himself at 
the feet of a priest, exposing his faults 


to one who knew him; Lacordaire, un- 
[ 204 ] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


bosoming himself of humiliating and 
superfluous details that filled him with 
shame, that he might fall in the esteem 
of his confessor, and so the better 
imitate Jesus. 

Once let the soul taste such contempt 
as Jesus suffered, and nothing can hold 
her back from following after the Be- 
loved who has gone before, clad in the 
scarlet robe of humiliation. 

The entry of the crowd into this 
drama changed the whole scene. The 
crowd could not be ignored; at times 
it became the principal actor. Pilate 
parleyed with it as with a powerful 
witness. From insults hurled at Christ, 
it passed to insolent demands for His 
life. Its threats and vociferations were 
deciding factors; they tipped the bal- 
ance, and when, in spite of all accusa- 
tions, this balance seemed to incline 
toward Jesus, Barabbas was thrown in. 
“Barabbas! Give us Barabbas! Away 
with this Man! Crucify Him!’ Nor 
was this enough; the scales mounted 
higher; the fear of Caesar was added. 
“Tf thou release this man, thou art not 

| [205] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Caesar’s friend,”’ was shouted at Pilate. 
This time the scale descended—and 
Jesus, following every movement of this 
riotous manifestation, heard His name 
in every mouth, saw Himself rejected 
by all. 

And so the crowd played its réle all 
the way up to Calvary. In the dark- 
ness and confusion of that desolate 
summit, it dwindled down to the people 
who wag¢ged their heads in passing, the 
‘priests who mocked, and the soldiers 
who gambled away Christ’s garments. 
Some were drinking, others were laugh- 
ing.. The holy women wept. John was 
overwhelmed with grief. Mary stood 
at the cross. And Jesus murmured: 
“Father, forgive them!’ The two 
thieves blasphemed. Darkness fell 
upon this shifting scene. From above 
God was disentangling all the threads, 
separating the chaff from the wheat. 
He already saw the centurion on his 
knees. He heard the confession of the 
good thief who implored the dying 
Christ for salvation. He saves some, 


He rejects others. 
[ 206 | 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


Has the world changed since then? 
Have the just ceased to come in con- 
tact with the wicked? Has God failed 
to choose and take to Himself His 
elect? 


[ 207 ] 


XII 
The Weakness of ‘Power 


HE character of Judas is revolt 
ing; the rdle of Caiphas re- 


pugnant; that of Peter, painful. 
But Pilate is a sorry figure, dominating 
the most complex scene the Pretorium 
had ever witnessed. 

The trial of Jesus furnished the tragic 
feature in the great drama of the Pas- 
sion. The stage was set. Judas had 
carefully laid his plans; Annas and 
Caiphas had rehearsed their rdles, and 
when Jesus appeared before them He 
was already a man condemned. ‘Their 
show of justice was a cowardly farce. 
The sentence had been decided on and 
the trial was naught but a pretext for 
passing it (E. Renan, Life of Jesus, 21). 

Peter’s betrayal was not deliberate, 
but his defense of his Master lacked 
courage, and at the first word of a 


woman, he denied Him. Pilate alone, 
[ 208 ] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


in the conflict of passions and interests, 
sought sincerely to save Jesus from the 
punishment he was asked to inflict upon 
Him. 

The pitiful feature of Pilate’s char- 
acter was his lack of will-power. He 
wavered—recoiled at condemning an 
innocent man—and sent Him to death 
while proclaiming His innocence. 

Fear, weakness and human respect 
can, under pressure, stifle the noblest of 
sentiments. What sadder thing than 
this desertion of principle. Open hatred, 
evil intent are preferable. The results 
are the same,but the latter at least are 
consistent, and have willed the result 
honestly. 

Pilate condemning Jesus represents 
the eternal conflict between duty and 
self-interest, and that is the bitterest 
struggle known to the human heart. 
The figure of Pilate is self-interest 
supreme, contending with conscience 
as he passes through that conflict 
known to every soul as the battle be- 
tween the two forces of duty and pas- 
sion. Above all, Pilate was annoyed 

[ 209 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


at his position. The first instinct of 
those ambitious ones who seek honor 
and authority is to avoid annoyance or 
disturbing complications. The admin- — 
istrative ability of many men in power 
often amounts to little more than a cer- 
tain dexterity in avoiding difficulty, or 
in finding an avenue of escape from it, 
leaving others tO bear complaint or 
blame. Such was the Pilate who tried 
Jesus early that morning. He had been 
informed that: the Man would be 
brought before him, and Jesus was not 
unknown to the procurator, since His 
exploits were in every mouth. He 
knew, moreover, with the watchful- 
ness of a governor, that this Man had 
broken no essential law. 

Pilate wanted to avoid being brought 
in direct contact with the Jews because 
they were already unfriendly toward 
him. His unpopularity was of long 
standing (Fouard’s Life of Jesus Christ, 
Book II, Ch. 1). From the moment 
he took office, he, like all tyrants, had 
wished to exercise absolute authority, 


and with this end in view he had at- 
[210] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART. 


tempted to install a Roman garrison in 
Jesusalem. Under cover of the night 
the troops entered the city, and great 
excitement prevailed the following day 
when the news spread. ‘The town was 
up in arms, and people hastened en 
masse to the procurator in Caesarea to 
demand the withdrawal of the regiment 
whose presence was an insult. Pilate 
refused. The Jews were obdurate, and 
for five days reiterated their demands. 
Angered and out of patience, Pilate 
ordered the troops to charge the re- 
calcitrants, who, flinging themselves on 
the ground, cried: ‘“T'rample upon our 
bodies, if you will, but we will not re- 
linquish. one atom of our rights!” 
Pilate gave way, and in such manner his 
term of office was inaugurated. 
Dissatisfied with himself, resentful 
of the attitude of the Jews, he shortly 
afterward made a second attempt to 
impose his authority. This time the 
bone of contention was the gilt shields, 
bearing the names of pagan divinities, 
that he had hung on the walls of his 


palace, adjacent to the Temple. Fresh 
[211] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


outbreaks followed; the people, again in 
fermentation, demanded the removal 
of the pagan ensigns. Pilate ordered 
the crowd to be dispersed. Silenced, 
but not vanquished, the indignant 
population appealed to Tiberius, and 
the Roman governor was forced to 
yield a second time. Decidedly, he 
was lacking in tact, and ran the risk of 
falling out of favor in high quarters. 

As is common with weak characters, 
he now tried to conciliate. 

Jerusalem lacked water, and he con- 
ceived the idea of bringing it to the city 
by means of gigantic aqueducts. The 
work was about to begin, when it was 
noised abroad that the revenue of the 
Temple was to be drawn upon to meet 
the expenses of construction. The 
people again rioted, and overpowered 
the workmen. The work was stopped, 
and a third time Pilate had to give way 
to the populace. 

These things indicate the character 
of the man. Unstable in impulse as in 
conduct, his first move was to impose 


his authority; the second, to conciliate. 
[212] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


Before obstacles that thwarted his de- 
signs, obstinacy met obstinacy, and 
stubbornness became violence. Sud- 
denly the menacing shadow of Tiberius 
appeared upon the horizon. All felt 
that should the emperor again be 
obliged to interfere, it would be all over 
with the tactless procurator who thus 
disturbed the tranquillity of his distant 
lord. So it was that when the crowd 
threatened, Pilate yielded and delivered 
Jesus. 

Since his three unfortunate quarrels, 
he had kept free from all conflict with 
this stiff-necked people, who clung ob- 
stinately to their own laws and their 
own God. He had returned to Caesarea 
in the fair vale of Sharon, rich with 
blossoming orange groves and waving 
fields of golden grain. Life there was 
to his taste, and he made of his estate 
a royal domain. Once a year only, for 
the Paschal feast, did he appear in 
Jerusalem, and then remained shut up 
in the Antonia, where he held court 
with all the pomp of military power, 
designed to impress the Revie In 

213 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


reality his authority, as his presence, 
was only tolerated; he was never ac- 
cepted. | 

And, by a strange fatality, it was 
during one of these brief periods of 
residence, on the eve of the great 
Paschal feast, that the conflict with the 
people which he desired to avoid 
was thrust upon him through the pres- 
ence of Jesus. 

To be disturbed that morning, just 
before the Jewish Paschal feast, was a 
trial to his patience, and his irritation 
deepened upon learning that the Jews 
would not enter the Pretorium and be 
soiled by the presence of a pagan, even 
though he were a procurator. It was 
against their law. An infringement of 
it would exclude them from accom- 
plishing that night their sacred rite, 
the eating of the Paschal lamb. This 
impertinence served but to increase 
Pilate’s resentment. But he yielded, as 
before. Why resist? This people, 
prostrate on the ground, inviting the 
troops to march over their bodies, and 

+ the pagan shields removed by order of 
[214 | 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


Tiberius, were memories that. still 
haunted him. So he came out to them, 
demanding angrily, ‘““What accusation 
do you bring against this man?” 

The Jews, scenting his ill-disguised 
rage, replied insolently, “If He were 
not a malefactor, we would not have 
delivered Him up to thee!’’ : 

“Take Him, you, and judge Him 
according to your law,”’ Pilate retorted. 
The note of bitterness in his voice re- 
called the past. | : 

Here we have the first Pilate. And 
he still exists in this world. We have 
encountered Pilate within ourselves, 
and in our dealings with others. We 
seek ease and tranquillity; we are loath 
to be disturbed, even by God. When 
difficulties arise in our business affairs, 
our career, or our duties, we evade 
them; perhaps, alas, seek a way out 
that leads us and those near us into 
wrong-doing. It is hard to love God 
above our natural desires, especially in 
what touches our hearts and the things 
of our world. 

[215] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Yet, despite protests, Pilate saw him- 
self forced to give audience to this tire- 
some prisoner. Jesus, humiliated be- 
yond measure, stood outside, guarded 
by soldiers. Pilate had Him brought in, 
having just had time enough to gather 
the principal charges against Him. 
“We have found this man perverting 
our nation, and forbidding to give 
tribute to Caesar, and saying that he 
is Christ the king.”’ (Luke 23 : 2). 

The judge waved aside the first two 
accusations, knowing well that they 
were false. The province was calm, 
and the tribute had been paid. Upon 
the third charge alone did he question 
the prisoner, asking half-mockingly, 
half-angrily: “Art Thou the King of 
the Jews?” | 

The contrast between the crime of 
which He was accused, the assumption 
of royalty, and this pitiful object at the 
bar of justice, evoked a smile of irony, 
that played on the lips of the pro- 
curator. 


And Jesus replied: “Sayest thou 
[216] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


this thing of thyself, or have others 
told it thee of me?” 

“Am I a Jew?’ Pilate retorted. 
“Thy own nation and the chief priests 
have delivered Thee up to me. What 
hast Thou done?” 

Then Jesus affirmed His royalty: 
He also had His servants, but His 
kingdom was not of this world. He 
laid claim to His title, to His rights, 
and the existence of another world 
with its court, its army. There He 
reigns. 

“Art Thou a king then?” insisted 
Pilate. 

“Thou sayest that I am a King,” re- 
plied Jesus. “For this was I born, and 
for this came I into the world 
that I should give testimony of the 
truth.” 

“Truth,” replies the sceptic, Pilate; 
“what is truth?’ And with these 
words he went out again to the Jews, 
satisfied that he had to do with a 
mystic, a man suffering from hallucina- 
tions, anything except a criminal. To 
the priests who stood quivering with 

[217] 


THE ASCENT OF "CALVARY 


excitement at the door, he announced: 
“T find no cause in this Man.” It was 
a simple sentence, stated in all sin- 
cerity, and with secret satisfaction. | 
Pilate was not sorry, in fact, to show 
these Jews who had disturbed him that 
they could not impose on him with 
the flimsiness of their accusations. To 
Pilate’s mind, the incident was closed. 
Not proven—no ground for criminal 
proceedings. How, therefore, condemn 
Him? 


[218 ] 


XIII 
The Expediency of Authority 


ILATE’S words, falling upon the 
Pisces: silence of the priests, 

who were impatient for Christ’s 
blood, called forth a howl of protesta- 
tion. It troubled the self-indulgent 
procurator. The sight of Jesus emerg- 
ing from the court raised a hue and cry 
from the excited people. That dense 
and vociferating crowd, that dark and 
threatening mass at the end of the 
square, shouting threats and protests, 
gave indubitable evidence of its hatred. 
Pilate could have fancied himself once 
more in his troubled days. In this 
affair he thought to deal with a single 
class, the priests; instead, he found 
_ himself face to face with the people 
who detested him. 

The wave of furious accusations 
reached his ears. Looking down upon 
the shouting crowd, Pilate was troubled 

[219] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


as he measured the full significance of 
its savage mood. For peace’s sake, 
turning to Jesus he said, not without a 
certain inquietude, “Dost Thou not 
hear how great testimonies they allege 
against Thee? Answerest Thou noth- 
ing?’ Jesus made no reply, but per- 
sisted in His silence, a course that had 
astounded the judges, and awakened 
suspicion that there was something 
abnormal, something perhaps super- 
human in this strange Being. 

And now appeared the second Pilate, 
who at any price wished to free himself 
of this complicated affair, and yet at 
the same time not to deliver Jesus. 
For it had suddenly assumed large 
proportions, was fast developing into 
tumult. A way out of it must be found, 
some avenue of escape. To throw the 
Man he had proclaimed innocent, to 
the fury of the crowd, was an act 
against his conscience. He was con- 
sidering the problem, when suddenly 
the word “Galilean” reached his ears. 

“Is this man a Galilean?” he asked, 


and being answered in the affirmative, 
[ 220 ] ; 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


Pilate seized upon this as a pretext to 
declare that he had no jurisdiction: the 
Accused, as a Galilean, must be tried 
by Herod. 

Herod happened to be at that 
moment in Jerusalem, and since he was 
on the best of terms with the Romans, 
Pilate thought to conciliate him by de- 
clining to trespass on his rights, while 
at the same time he would save his own 
face with the Jews. It seemed a happy 
solution. Let Herod decide! 

In reality Pilate had again yielded. 
This time his weakness degenerated 
into cowardice, for if justice compelled 
him to throw the case out of court for 
lack of proof, by what right did he send 
Jesus to Herod? Either the Accused 
was guilty, or He was innocent. Hav- 
ing acquitted him, Pilate had but to 
stand by his first decision. This he 
dared not do, however, so he must get 
out of it as best he could. It was again 
the vacillating creature, shifting the 
responsibility upon other shoulders. 

He entered the Pretorium, convinced 


that the whole business was off his 
{ 221 | 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


hands. The crowd moved away also, 
following the priests and ancients to 
Herod’s court. The shouting died 
down, the square was cleared. 

“Kings govern strongly,” said Bos- 
suet. Nothing is so fatal to a people, 
to a family, or to an assembly, as to 
rule by cxpediency. No one is satisfied, 
neither the one in authority, nor those 
under him; for this sort of manipula- 
tion smacks of ‘sleight-of-hand.. Pro- 
bity scorns concealment, while frank- 
ness has a certain courage that accepts 
the consequences of its words and acts. 
And of what is courage composed if 
not of strength and truth? Both of 
these qualities were singularly lacking 
in Pilate. 

Presently a new outburst startled 
him from his cowardly quiet. Herod 
had sent Jesus back to Pilate. After 
amusing himself at the expense of the 
Accused, he had pronounced no judg- 
ment. Cruelly thrust back upon his 
perplexities, Pilate endeavored, never- 
theless, to profit by Herod’s refusal. 


He was a Jew without doubt, his name 
[ 222 | 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


alone would suffice to establish Christ’s 
innocence. Moreover, his refusal to 
try the case could not but have pleased 
the people! Who knows? After all, 
affairs might yet terminate satisfac- 
torily. } 

This time he summoned the princes 
of the priests, and the Sanhedrin, and 
with the design of flattering their 
vanity and conciliating the people, 
showed himself condescending, ap- 
peared to consult them, to take their 
view. | 

“You have presented unto me this 
man, as one that perverteth the people; 
and behold I, having examined him 
before you, find no cause in this man, 
in those things wherein you accuse 
him. No, nor Herod neither. For I 
sent you to him, and behold, nothing 
worthy of death is done to him. I will 
chastise him therefore, and release 
him.” (Luke 22 : 14-16.) 

And even in this Pilate was guilty of 
fresh cowardice. Why punish Jesus? If 
the punishment meant flagellation, the 
Jews needed no permission from a 

[223 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Roman governor to inflict this torture, 
which was within their law. The truth 
was that He had been brought before 
Pilate to suffer the death sentence. 
This was evident from the beginning. 
“Our law forbids us to kill,’ said the 
priests openly, “and we have come to 
ask His death of you.” Hence the 
flagellation was a useless cruelty, in- 
capable of softening the priests or of 
calming the people. 

This soon became evident to the 
procurator. The shrewd priests, the 
mutinous people had detected his weak- 
ness. Alive to. his subterfuges, they 
knew they had but to impose their will 
upon him and force him to deliver the 
Accused. 

On his side, however, Pilate’s resolu- 
tion to save Jesus was strengthening; 
his pity for Him seemed awakened. 
Perhaps, after taking the stand that 
He was innocent, and having twice 
publicly announced that he found no 
ground for condemning Him, he felt 
that he had gone too far to retract. 


Moreover, it was beneath his dignity 
[224 ] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


to listen to these envious and stiff- 
necked Jews, for he knew the jealousy 
that was eating at their hearts. So 
half from vanity, half from a natural 
commiseration, he made another at- 
tempt to save the Victim. His crafty 
policy deluded him into fancying that 
he had hit upon the right thing. He 
recognized the fact that in this agitated 
mass crowding the steps of his tribunal, 
the priests led, and the crowd blindly 
followed. What a stroke if he could 
create a schism, and save Jesus by 
turning the crowd against their priests! 
The idea seemed a stroke of genius. 

It was the custom on the Paschal 
feast to release to the people a con-' 
demned criminal. There awaited exe- 
cution a brigand called Barabbas, a 
murderer and fomenter of sedition, one 
whom the people held in terror. He 
would place this outlaw beside Jesus, 
Jesus who had gone about doing good, 
who had given sight to the blind, 
healed the lepers, and even raised the 
dead. Jesus, the public benefactor, on 
one side; Barabbas, the hardened crim- 

[225 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


inal, on the other. The decision 
should be left to the people—only the 
people; their voice was to be the de- 
ciding voice. The result of the voting, : 
he felt that he already knew. From 
the judge’s bench, in a setting that 
proclaimed his power, in the exercise of 
which he now swayed toward mercy, 
he flung to the quivering, eager mass 
below his clever and startling proposi- 
tion. 

“Whom will you that I release to 
you, Barabbas, or Jesus that is called 
Christ?” (Matt. 27 : 17) 

He waited.- Unconsciously he was 
again compromising, his third and last 
act of cowardice. Further and further 
was he drifting from the good impulse 
which said to him: “This Man is 
innocent.” To couple Jesus’ name 
with that of Barabbas, was to imply 
the guilt of Jesus. Nay, more, it con- 
noted a death sentence, since on that 
day only one under a death penalty 
could be released. His intention, it is 
true, was to awaken in the populace a 


preference for Jesus. In reality he 
[ 226 | 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


put Him on the same footing with 
the murderer. 

Pilate waited, sure of the success of 
this expedient; and at that moment he 
received a message from his wife, urg- 
ing him to have nothing to do with the 
affair of this just Man. But the priests 
saw the procurator’s guile. They dis- 
persed at once among the crowd. Like 
a hidden leaven, a secret venom, they 
circulated and explained, and excited 
those already inflamed minds; and 
when Pilate rose and leaned out above 
them, to hear their reply, the whole 
multitude together cried, “Barabbas! 
Not this man, but Barabbas! Away 
with this man, and release unto us 


Barabbas!’’ 


[227 ] 


XIV 
The Fear of Strength 


URING all this turmoil, Jesus 
1) stood bound. Dignified, silent, 
He waited, hearing all. What 

was in the Master’s mind, as He 
assisted at His own dishonoring? To 
realize the venom of the crowd and that 
it would force the verdict, to know that 
at His side stood the man who could 
save Him with a word. But that 
word Pilate was too cowardly to utter! 
Yet Jesus had pity, and kept silence— 
seeing before His eyes the silence of all 
the Pilates of the future, some in public 
life, others in the secret of their souls. 
The Pilates in public life are the 
rulers who could stop evil and arrest 
persecution, and who under pretext 
that they did not make the law, refuse 
the responsibility of enforcing justice. 
As Pilate did, these wash their hands. 


*Tis well. The hands are cleansed, but - 
[ 228 ] | 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


the stain is on the heart, there ever to 
remain. It is possible that responsi- 
bility for the execution of a law may 
rest upon a man who did not make 
that law. Pilate had not made the law 
that condemned Jesus to death, and yet 
He was executed on Pilate’s order. 

The Pilates in the soul are we, our- 
selves, in the presence of temptation— 
giving way inch by inch, to a passion 
that prefers the shameful Barabbas 
before Our Saviour! 

The clamor of an entire people in 
delirium was painful hearing for the 
procurator. His hand was forced, and 
resentfully he called to the mob: 
“What will you then that I do to the 
king of the Jews?” (Mark 15 : 12). 

Then, for the first time, burst spon- 
taneously from a thousand throats 
that terrifying cry of death: “Crucify 
him! Crucify him!’ 

Pilate recoiled before this murderous 
clamor, and cut short the vociferating 
Jews with the biting retort: ‘“‘Why, 
what evil hath he done?” “Let him 


be crucified!’ reiterated the mob. 
[229 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Pilate would not take this word, but 
returned to the thought of the scourg- 
ing. He believed that the sight of 
blood would appease the populace. 

“T find no cause in him,” he said; 
“T will chastise him, therefore, and let 
him go.” 


J ESUS was scourged. We know the » 
thoroughness with which the execu- 
tioners did their work, and in what 
lamentable condition the Victim re- 
appeared. Ashe saw this Man, stream- 
ing with blood, Pilate hoped that he 
had at last succeeded in saving Him. 
What rage, what hate could persist in 
the presence of that blood-stained 
Creature? 

He forgot, alas! that blood intoxi- 
cates those who see it flow, nor did he 
suspect that his cowardice had dragged 
him to the level of the crowd, and even 
lower. For although he addressed 
them from the terrace, he was in reality 
dominated by them. 

“Behold the man!” he cried; which 
meant: ““Now, are you satisfied? Do 

[230] | 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 
you still believe this object can longer 
cherish the illusior that He is a king? 
Behold the man!’’ 

The soldiers had made sport of Christ 
in the courtyard. They had clothed 
Him in the royal robe and crowned |. 
Him in derision with a circle of thorns. 
So Pilate hoped that Christ’s pitiful 
condition and mock attire would save 
Him, that he himself would escape 
through the ridicule that made Jesus of 
so little account. . 

But the mob was no longer in the 
mood for laughter. Thanks to the 
subtle work of the priests and ancients, 
they had degenerated into a state of 
bestiality. They were no longer to be 
amused with grimaces, with tattered 
court mantles, with buffetings. Nor 
did the blood that flowed from the 
scourging slake their thirst. Mockery 
could not satisfy these men who de- 
manded a death-sentence. 

“Crucify him! Crucify him!”’ Again 
that terrible cry came from thousands 
of throats, in an overwhelming force 


‘that broke the will and crushed every 
[231] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


good impluse. “Death to him!’ howled 
the mob; the cry that has echoed in the 
train of many earthly sovereigns shall 
ring through the streets until it has 
obtained the head of Christ. And the 
tumult grew. “Away with him, away 
with him! Crucify him!’ 

“Shall I crucify your King?’ The 
procurator’s voice rang out above the 
din and clamor. 

“We have no king but Caesar,” 
answered the priests.’ 

“T find no cause in him,” repeated 
the procurator in desperation, attest- 
ing once more to Jesus’ innocence. 

“He makes himself the Son of God,”’ 
answered the priests. The Son of 
God! Now at last the accusation is 
given voice. Before this they had not 
dared utter it. The death sentence had 
been demanded for an agitator, death 
for one who evaded the payment of 
tribute money, death for the lunatic 
who called himself a king—all of which, 
to the ears of a man of reason, gave no 
ground for capital punishment. The 
mask had fallen. Death is demanded 

[ 232] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


for the blasphemer who claims to be 
the Son of God. 

Pilate trembled at these words, and 
why? Did he believe in the divinity of 
this flayed and despised Being before 
him? Who knows? 

Suddenly turning, he entered the 
Pretorium and had Jesus brought again 
to question Him. What passed between 
those two men alone, face to face, is 
not known—between the man who had 
it in his power to save the God, and the 
God who certainly longed to save the 
man. All we do know is that after 
this, Pilate came forth determined to 
save Jesus, resolved to act with firm- 
ness and impose his authority. Hence 
‘the whole question was opened once 
again. 

Of Pilate’s intentions there can be 
no doubt. He sought sincerely, taxed 
his wits, was firmly decided to find a 
way to save the Prisoner. But being 
both feeble and violent in character, 
he swung from one side to the other as 
impulse moved him. Now he was on 
the side of courage. The priests, seeing 

[233] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


this unsuspected element of strength 
in their opponent, and fearing Christ 
would slip through their hands, played 
their last trump card. Returning to 
the title of king which Jesus had 
arrogated to Himself, and upon which 
they had harped persisently, they 
elbowed their way hastily and violently 
toward Pilate. 

“If thou release this man thou art 
not Caesar’s friend. For whosoever | 
maketh himself a king, speaketh against 
Caesar.” And the Caesar who will 
suffer no contradiction is called Ti- 
berius. And Tiberius was doubtless 
far away in the soft voluptuous Capri, 
but informers were everywhere, and at 
a sign from the distant master, as at the . 
wand of Tarquin of old, heads fell off. 

In a flash all the old disputes with 
these people and the dreaded emperor’s: 
intervention passed through Pilate’s 
mind, and his self-interest prevailed. 
Deafened by the clamors, overwhelmed 
by the struggle without issue, feeling 
that despite all his efforts the ground 
was slipping from under him, after 

[234 | | 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


many fruitless attempts, he threw up 
his arms in a gesture of discourage- 
ment. Then, taking water, he washed 
his hands before the people. 

“T am innocent of the blood of this 
just man,” he said. “Look you to it.” 

Pitiful subterfuge, vain speech! 
when he had but to pronounce one 
word, the one that would have saved 
the innocent Victim! And so termi- 
nated, after four hours of dispute 
and turmoil, the drama of Pilate’s 
cowardice. 

Christ left the court condemned to 
death. The procurator signed the 
death warrant, and had caused to be 
written in large letters on a bit of wood: 
“Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” 
-He could not have written more truly: 
“Son of God.” 

“T am innocent of the blood of this 
man,” he had said. He believed this, 
perhaps, but until the end of time and 
beyond, no one else will believe it, and 
the Christian world will continue to 
repeat: “I believe in Jesus Christ, 

[235] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


who suffered under Pontius 
Pilate: and was crucified.” 
Would that all kings and judges of 
this world might take this lesson to 
heart and profit by it! 


[236] 


XV 


Ferusale m—K e jecting and 
Re jected 


NE leaves the Pretorium with a 
heavy heart. Pilate is so pathet- 
ic, so culpable a figure. He has 

evinced good will, and is yet so lacking 
in courage. His name has come down 
through the ages as the synonym for 
cowardice; just as Judas’ name is given 
to a traitor. To be compared to either 
of these characters is the grossest insult 
one can offer any man. In reality, both 
were traitors. The one betrayed his 
Master and Friend; the other betrayed 
truth. ’Tis a terrible thing to have 
been unfaithful to the light, and Pilate 
in his heart knew that Jesus was inno- 
cent. His conscience, his common 
sense, his honor cried out to him to save 
a guiltless human being—and yet he 
weakly surrendered to popular clamor, 
and condemned Him. 
[237] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Those who exercise that authority 
upon which the whole social fabric 
rests, and who for personal ends be- 
tray the truth they had sworn to de- 
fend, will suffer always the sting of re- 
morse that accompanies any departure 
from principle and rectitude. When 
God makes His presence felt, it is at a 
man’s own peril that he endeavors to 
ignore Him. Nay, more—God must 
be first. On this choice of God in pref- 
erence to the world lies the foundation 
of eternal happiness. 

Oh! my soul, upon what are thy 
affections set? Does thy heart cling 
to the things of earth, or does it soar to 
the eternal joys-of heaven? Love is 
as a scale; rising, descending, we fol- 
low ever the inclinations of our heart. 
Jesus, following the inclination of His 
Sacred Heart, was climbing Calvary; 
despite the pain, the desolation that 
this sacrifice meant, He knew that on 
Golgotha He would save humanity and 
glorify His Father. It was for Him a 
bitter joy, a joyful sorrow. 


And although Jesus seemed to have 
[238 ] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


traveled the full cycle of torture, there 
remained yet one torment He still 
willed to suffer, one that tore His Heart 
although at first this suffering seemed 
lost in the bitter sea of His Passion. 

Jesus was a man and Jew, and pro- 
foundly loved His country. Jerusalem, 
for the.children of Israel, was the most 
cherished spot on earth, the blessed 
land, the common center wherein all 
differences were merged. Wayfarers 
sang for joy as they journeyed towards 
the Holy City; children grew up with 
the hope of one day seeing the Temple 
that God had deigned to honor with His 
Presence. The aged, prevented by 
infirmities from making the journey, 
wept, and lived on the memory of what 
their eyes had once beheld. 

But apart from this radiant presence 
of God in the holy Temple, Jerusalem 
itself was of such transcendent beauty 
that it might well have enthralled an 
entire people. From whatever side 
one regarded the Holy City, it appeared 
resplendent with light and radiance. 
On beholding it today, desolate, bar- 

[239 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


ren, denuded of its verdant crown and 
with crumbling gray walls, it is hard 
to believe in, or form a picture of, its 
ancient splendors. 


But we must see Jerusalem as Jesus 
saw it; as it appeared to the Romans, 
and as it was loved and venerated by 
the Jews before Titus laid upon it his 
destructive hand. Without doubt the 
most fairy-like aspect of the city was 
‘obtained in coming from Bethany, 
despite the mute desolation of the Val- 
ley of Josaphat, over which the eyes 
roamed before resting upon the glory 
of Jerusalem. To-day, as ever, that 
valley, with its array of flat white 
tombs, is a mournful sight; here and 
there a lonely olive tree intensifies its 
desolation, and on the mountain side 
the paths run between crumbling walls, 
barren of moss or leaf or blade of grass. 

Only the pool of Siloe is brightened 
by a border of fresh mulberry trees, and 
fields of artichokes form a carpet with 
their thick green stalks in the adjacent 
humid soil; an oasis, as it were, in an 

[ 240 ] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


arid land, dust covered and overhung 
with an air of sadness. 

But in Jesus’ time the arid ridges of 
this landscape were lost in a wealth of 
verdure. Pink and white orchards, 
terraced vineyards, turfs of tamarisk, 
canopies of mulberry trees and droop- 
ing sycamores made of it a garden of 
delight, a feast for the eye. And 
descending the Mount of Olives under 
a tangle of flowering branches, sud- 
denly through the foliage, one glimpsed 
in its emerald setting the soaring out- 
lines of Jerusalem. 

The deep valley of Cedron, dark with 
swaying cedars, lay beneath; the cren- 
ellated walls of the city formed an airy 
lace-work contrasting with the sombre 
mass over which it towered; higher up 
scintillated the dazzling golden dome 
of the sanctuary, reflecting flaming rays 
upon the snow-white walls of the edi- 
fice. In the words of a contemporary, 
one beheld here a mass of golden flame 
crowning a mountain of snow. 

On the other side of the city, behind 


the Temple, rose Herod’s three high 
[241 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


towers: Phasael, resembling the great 
light-house of Alexandria; Mariamne, 
built, it was said, of one solid piece of 
marble; and Hippicus, rising to a 
height of one hundred and twenty 
feet. To these three towers, of a beauty 
and solidity so extraordinary that 
Josephus tells us that nothing com- 
parable to them existed in the world, 
must be added the octagonal tower of 
Psephinus, from the top of which one 
had a glimpse of the Mediterranean. 

This blue-pinnacled apparition, al- 
most transparent against a sky flecked 
with fleecy pink clouds and trailings of 
purple from the setting sun, rested 
upon a mountain 2,500 feet high; and 
even to-day, although it is denuded of 
the Temple, of Psephinus, of Phasael, 
of its fire, its gold, and the snow of its 
marbles, one gazes in awe at this city 
rising against the same flaming sky. 

“Jerusalem! Jerusalem! should I ever 
forget thee, may my arm be shortened, 
and my parched tongue cleave to my 
palate.”’ 

This was the Jerusalem upon. which 

[242 ] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


Jesus had gazed with longing as He 
slowly descended the slopes of 
Gethsemani to mount to the Golden 
Gate, where cries of hosanna burst 
from the multitude, and where, moved 
by the splendors and enchantment of 
the view, He wept over His beloved 
city. For He saw, even then, the de- 
struction that would come upon this 
marvel of beauty, its glory gone for- 
ever, desolation brooding over its ruins. 
This desolation foretold by Our Lord, 
still reigns in Jerusalem and His mur- 
der alone explains the halt of civiliza- 
tion at the gate of the most glorious 
city the world has ever seen. The sor- 
rows and sufferings of Jesus hover over 
its arid landscape and, it would seem, 
have cast a blight even upon its vege- 
tation. 

Religion in Jerusalem wears a sorrow- 
ful mien; the Christians all go humbly 
to kiss the empty tomb, and the open 
rock of Calvary. The various rites 
clash and mix in an interchange of 
commiseration and envy, and all this in 
the spot where divine charity was born, 

[243 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


and where there should be but one 
great and united love. Paid guards 
smoke and drink at the foot of Calvary, 
ten paces from the sepulchre. One 
comes away saddened from this strange 
medley, shocked and impressed, above 
all, by the desolation—that desolation 
predicted by Jesus, whose anathema 
still echoes in the bickering and gloom 
of ungodly turmoil. 

Jerusalem, Jerusalem, hadst thou but 
wished it, thou wouldst have known 
the happy time of the visit of thy God! 
Now a day shall come, when thy walls 
shall be surrounded by the enemy, and 
of thy Temple—that Temple of incom- 
parable beauty—not a stone shall re- 
main upon a stone. Nothing can resist 
the anger of God. Thou shalt be thrown 
to earth, trampled under foot by the 
nations, and remain ever a desolate 
desert. “If thou also hadst known, and 
that in this thy day, the things that are 
to thy peace; but now they are hidden 
from thy eyes” (Luke 19 : 42). “And 
beholding the city, Jesus wept over it.” 

God weeps over the future, for He 

[244 ] 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


alone knows it; to His creatures in His 
infinite goodness He says: “Sufficient 
for the day is the evil thereof.”’ (Matt. 
6:34). But to Him whose day is 
eternal, the evils of to-morrow are 
present. He measures them and their 
consequences, and it is for this He 
weeps. We are too forgetful of the eye 
of God, that is always on us—in the 
present, as well as in the future. 

- He weeps over our falls of the mor- 
row, even in our moments of fervor, 
for He sees all. When He came to our 
hearts for the first time, giving us the 
kiss of peace and His blood to drink, 
He knew that afterwards we would 
seek to quench our thirst at another 
chalice. Yet he withdraws not the one 
He puts to our lips. He sees what our 
hands shall touch, what our eyes shall 
look upon; yet never does He withhold 
His loving embrace, nor is it less tender, 
nor is His glance less loving. But His 
sorrow is known only to the celestial 
spirits, who marvel that after spilling 


His blood for mankind, He yet has 
[245 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


tears to shed over our unspeakable in- 
gratitude. 


Ler us dwell a moment on these 
tears. O Jesus, I count those Thou 
hast shed over my unfaithfulness, I 
place them in the chalice of thanks- 
giving, which I would daily offer to 
Thee. “I will take the chalice of 
salvation; and I will call upon the 
name of the Lord” (Ps. 115 : 13). 
From Thy Heart, wounded by our 
ingratitude, there rises a cry, which 
saves rather than condemns us. ’Tis 
the secret of Calvary, that shall en- 
dure until the end of time. In default 
of blood, Thou dost give Thy tears, as 
prayers that efface our iniquities. 

And so we understand the intimate 
sufferings of Our Lord over the in- 
gratitude of Jerusalem, and His love 
for it, and His sorrow at leaving this 
city so dear to His Heart. 

It is not presuming too much to sup- 
pose that, if Jesus wept upon His 
solemn entry into the city shortly be- 


fore His death, He experienced an un- 
246 | 
4 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


utterable feeling of sadness at the 
moment He left the Judgment Gate 
and passed for the last time the ram- 
parts of the beloved city, to climb to 
His death on Calvary. 

That face, so fair, the face Veronica 
wiped, marked with the pallor of death, 
was once bathed in tears. He was 
guarded, it is true, by Gentiles, hired 
and barbarous Romans; but He knew 
full well that He had been delivered by 
His own people, who were even now in 
the vanguard of the procession. The 
ancients, the scribes, the high priest 
himself, all were there. The city, with 
its murmur, its turmoil, its agitation, 
receded at each step. He advanced, 
knowing that He would never again 
enter that city. “Jerusalem, Jerusa- 
lem, if thou hadst known!” 

The suffering inflicted by our own 
people is doubly painful. “For if my 
enemy had reviled me, I would verily 
have borne with it. But thou, . 
my guide, and my familiar. . . .in 
the house of God we walked with 
consent.” (Ps. 54:13-15). Such were 

[247 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


the thoughts that filled Jesus’ heart 
in that terrible moment; and these suf- 
ferings are renewed in the silence and 
loneliness of the Tabernacle each time 
that sin drives Him out of a soul which 
He has purchased with His precious 
blood. 

“Chosen and cherished soul, what 
have I done to thee?” He asks again. 
Oh, silence! Oh, loving plaint! Oh, 
Jesus, expelled from souls dear to Thee! 
Shouldst Thou deign to place Thyself 
in my path, I would cry, “Come, come, 
I beseech Thee! I welcome Thee in 
place of those by whom Thou hast been 
rejected; may my love, engendered by 
Thy divine presence, be a refuge for 
Thy love so often betrayed and 
spurned.” 

There exist souls dear to God’s heart, 
that are yet capable of casting Him out; 
these are the most ungrateful, for are 
they not the ones that have been the 
most favored? And there are nations, 
too, that, like Jerusalem, shall be 
finally rejected, after marvels of love 


have been accomplished in their midst. 
| 248 | 


TORTURES OF THE HEART 


Jerusalem, if thou hadst known that 
true love is measured by fidelity! 
What avails it to have been chosen and 
loved beyond others if, when God calls, 
the soul does not return love for love! 
God’s heart will be turned away, then, 
and given to another. He can bring 
forth children of Abraham from the 
arid rock. He can bring forth lilies 
from the mire. 

Jesus continued His upward climb. 
It was noon. The Temple resounded 
with the tones of the sacred trumpets; 
the golden dome and the snow-white 
- walls shone in the splendor of the mid- 
day sun; the cloud of incense mounted 
in a column above the Holy of Holies; 
the bleating of the lambs came from the 
pool wherein they were plunged before 
the great sacrifice of the ninth hour; 
and strangers gathered and crowded 
into the narrow streets and the court of 
the Temple. 

And at this moment the sinister 
cortége of the condemned Criminal ar- 
rived at the summit of Calvary. Jesus 
was nailed to the cross, His Po turned 

249 | 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


to the Jerusalem that had abandoned 
Him, His arms outstretched toward 
the west, where through time and space 
His dying eyes rested upon a new 
people who awaited Him, 


[250 | 


PART THREE 
The Summit of Torture 





I 


His Divine ‘Radiance is 


Obliterated 


E look up: at the blood-soaked 
cross and contemplate, with 
mixed feelings of horror and 


love, the divine face of Our Saviour. 
The Prophet Isaias wails: ‘“‘ 
there is no beauty in him, nor comeli- 
ness: and we have see him, and there 
was no sightliness, that we should be 
desirous of him” (Isaias 53:2). With 
what anguish and longing we dwell 
‘upon the ancient fairness of that 
beloved visage, now soiled with the 
shame of spittle, furrowed with streaks 
of blood, begrimed with dirt! ‘How 
changed He is!’ is the cry that escapes 
- from every lip 

What contrast between this present 
disfigurement and former comeliness! 
This thought is fraught with wonder 
and profound sadness. Through the 

[253] 


THE ASCENT. OF CALVARY 


pallor that overspreads the drawn and 
distorted features, one goes back in 
memory to their former beauty, to the 
penetrating charm of the eyes, the 
winning smile. O God! how changed 
He is! All traces of the loveliness, the 
radiance that illumined His face and 
drew all men to Him, are gone. To- 
day, there is only a livid, blood-stained 
mask, and death. 

A mournful little group of friends, 
faithful through contempt and dis- 
honor, are standing at the foot of the 
cross. They feed their anguish during 
the long hours of darkness and silence, 
on the glory of that once captivating 
visage: Mary His Mother, Magdalen 
the pardoned, John the friend of His 
Heart, and other devoted ones. The 
head of the dying Master has fallen ~ 
forward under the weight of the crown 
of thorns; the hair hangs heavy and 
matted about His face; streaks of 
blood mark turrows in His cheeks; the 
lips are swollen and discolored; the 
mouth gapes open; the eyes brim with 
tears. And His precious blood flows 

[254] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


‘in streams; a few drops, alas, would not 
suffice to wash away our sins. 

No, it is no longer a human face that 
the little group gazes upon; and of all 
who gaze, His friends alone see His 
countenance as it was in its former 
beauty and charm, 


[255] 


Il 
His Mother's Heart ts Pierced 


EHOLD His Mother! | 
B We cherish memories of our 

friends and memories of our 
mothers but a mother’s memory in all 
that relates to her child is more 
tenacious. It reaches back to the 
child’s first days and only to the mother | 
is it given to find in the son grown to 
manhood the ingenuous look of the 
babe she held in her arms. Nor does 
she forget with what a combination of 
travail and rapture she brought that 
frail life into the world. Mothers 
would keep their children always little, 
always in their arms, always dependent 
upon their tender care. But the march 
of time hurries the sons from that sweet 
shelter out into the battle of life; 
and all that is left the mother is the 
land of memory, wherein she dwells 
upon the enchanted scenes of child- 
hood. 

[256] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


Nor did Mary escape the sweet 
tyranny of motherhood. In the livid, 
blood-stained figure of her beloved 
Son, in the outraged and distorted 
features of the Victim hanging on the 
cross, she still saw the winsome face 
of the Child of Bethlehem and 
Nazareth. “But Mary kept all these 
words, pondering them in her heart” 
(Luke 2:19). Often indeed, in hours 
of grief and tears, our sorrow is made 
more poignant by the memory of lost 
happiness, until the contrast between 
the sunshine of other days and the low- 
ering clouds of the present makes the 
heart sick with inexpressible longing. 

Bethlehem with its terraced vine- 
yards and olive groves, the stable 
where Christ was born, the shepherds 
kneeling in wonder and _ adoration 
around the manger, the effulgence of 
the angels chanting and hovering over 
the divine Infant wrapped in swad- 
dling clothes—all were visions of lost 
happiness to Mary. The same sad 
Memory recalled the flight from 
“Herod’s cruelty, the mee ee Child 
257] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


in arms, in the dead of night at a word 
from Joseph, to take the road to exile 
across the trackless wastes of the — 
desert. The tranquil and amber Nile, 
the pyramids, the mocking sphinx, the 
rigid obelisk, and the crouching gods 
in the dusky temples, were all as so 
many shifting scenes in this Mother’s 
memory. But Mary could bend over 
the sleeping face of her Child; to pos- 
sess Him was happiness; hardship and 
exile were forgotten while she held her 
God in her arms. 

The Child grew in grace and years; 
she remembered the first lisping of 
those lips that on Calvary were smeared 
with blood and the froth of death, she 
recalled with what sweetness they had 
formed the name of Mary! Exile 
ceases to be exile when the soul pos- 
sesses Jesus. Mary clung always to 
her quiet happiness in the safety of the 
desert; she left it but to follow the road 
that led up to Calvary, where she 
stood contrasting in her breaking heart 
the happiness of those far-off days with 


the agony of the present. 
[258] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


She saw Nazareth, and their humble 
dwelling; the workshop, and the Child 
at play in the sweet scented shavings—- 
all the beauty of their obscure lives. 
How often we realize our happiness 
only when it is gone from us! Then 
came the death of the foster-father, 
leaving the Mother and Son alone. In 
the sweet intimacy of those succeeding 
years the Child became a Youth. 
With what emotion the Mother noted 
the growing gravity and deepening 
thoughtfulness of His face. When He 
was a Child, she had kissed and 
fondled Him; a few years later and He 
had become her inspiration; His lips 
and eyes spoke and she listened and 
sat at His feet in the dusk to drink in 
His words. She had chosen the better 
part. | 

Those about her had ever been 
ignorant of the great and joyous 
mystery of her life with her Son. Her 
relations, her nephews, even her sister, 
seemed not to realize what manner of 
Child, of Youth, of Man, they had 
among them. But what matter, since 

[259] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


she knew, and in her loving mother- 
heart jealously guarded the knowledge 
she alone possessed. This ineffable 
felicity had lasted for nearly thirty 
years. And it had been all too short! © 


Tuen, one evening Jesus had told 
her that they must part. On the mor- 
row He went away. The Mother 
gazed through blinding tears at the re- 
treating form of her beloved Son on the 
Galilean highway, setting out alone. 
He had not.yet called His Apostles and 
she could not follow Him. Her happi- 
ness was over. During the three years 
of His public life, only on rarest occa- 
sions did she see Him alone. 

His great mission absorbed the. 
Messias. His face, burned by the sun 
and worn with fatigue, became graver, 
and athwart the brow she had kissed 
the Mother discerned the shadow of 
the cross. And then came the day 
when she stood in the shadow of that 
cross—not a vision but a hard reality! . 

How vividly the scenes of the past 


flitted through Mary’s memory in the 
[ 260 | 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


presence of the ghastly actuality. 
Anguish tore at her heart; her arms 
reached toward her Son; groping for 
support in her failing strength she en- 
countered only the cross—everywhere, 
the cross on which Jesus was dying. 
To cling to the cross that crushes us; 
to lean on it in hours of faintness and 
weariness; to be bathed in the blood of 
Jesus, and mingle with it our own; to 
have no confidant other than the God 
who strikes, and to stand valiant under 
the blows, like the Mother of Sorrows, . 
is to imitate the Mother who gave her 
Son for our redemption. | 
There are few spiritual summits 
higher than Calvary. Souls called to 
participate in the sufferings of our be- 
loved Lord must climb the mountain 
silently, their wounds rather than their 
lips proclaiming their undying love. 


. [ 261 ] 


Il 


The Penitent s Love ts Tried 


r ARADITION is unanimous in — 
| placing Magdalen, the great - 

penitent, ina humble and loving 
posture at the foot of the cross, It 
would seem as though she hardly dared 
look up into the face of Christ; and yet, 
from her place in the dust, she had but 
to lift her head to encounter the gaze of 
His eyes suffused with tears and blood, 
the same eyes that had looked upon her 
and forgiven her much in the house of 
Simon (Luke 7: 37-50). 

There, in the shadow of the cross, 
she too returned in memory to those 
days of grace and the miracle of love 
that had transformed her soul, and to 
those days when she had first beheld 
the Master. 

With what interest and yet what 


secret fear she had sought out the 
[ 262] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


Wonder-Worker who was credited with 
the power of reading the hearts of men. 
Then, inspired by grace, the longing to 
see again the gentle yet strong per- 
sonality that drew her, had sprung up 
in her heart. Curiosity and a mixture 
of emotions had driven her to seek 
Jesus many times. Always, however, 
on returning to her luxurious life after 
these encounters, she had felt a grow- 
ing shame, a loathing for the objects 
she had treasured, and had obtained 
at the price of virtue. 

All return to God begins with some 
disillusionment, as a great searchlight 
falling from above, revealing the empti- 
ness of earthly things. God never forces 
a soul; the beauty of His countenance 
works the irrevocable change. Then 
the fruits of pleasure, sweet and cloy- 
ing, take on a strange and bitter 
flavor. The lower nature still longs for 
that taste, but the hand snatches the 
deceptive fruit from the trembling 
lips. Unconscious of the change that 
is working in her, the soul continues to 


flit from flower to flower in a vain 
[ 263 | 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


search for the delectable honey she 
does not find. 

Magdalen remembered the vague 
uneasiness that had possessed her when, 
on the horizon of her life, she beheld, 
slowly rising, the glorious sun of that 
face, human and divine, whose radiance 
dazzled and fascinated her. As she 
stood on Calvary, she lived again 
through that day when, decked out in 
all the bravery of her rich attire, still 
the public sinner, she had gone forth 
with her box of ointments, and entered 
the banquet hall of the Pharisee where 
she knew she would find the Man from 
Galilee. Rich men were reclining on 
couches drawn up around the table, but 
as she was known to the servants, she 
slipped in unhindered. And once she 
reached His side, she forgot all else. 
Magdalen, the proud voluptuary, now 
in tears, fell on her knees at the feet of 
divine and radiant purity. 

There are certain virtues that are 
acquired only on the knees and in an 
attitude of humility. Purity is one of 


them. 
[ 264 ] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


A hush fell upon the scene; the host, 
his guests and servants, were astounded 
at the sight of Magdalen in this humble 
posture, pouring the contents of the 
precious box over the feet of Jesus, still 
wet with her repentant tears. But on 
that day, in her rightful place, her own 
head bowed under opprobrium, she per- 
formed a sacred and august ceremony— 
the consecration of a repentant soul 
amid the murmurs and protests of the 
guests and the titters and suppressed 
mirth of the attendants. 

Magdalen was conscious only of the 
Master, at whose feet she could not 
humble herself enough. Undoing the 
long hair that fell rippling over her 
bowed form, she avowed by this act 
her life of sin, as she crouched lke a 
slave to wipe with her splendid tresses 
the divine feet she had wet with her 
tears as she had kissed them passion- 
ately in’ heartbroken sorrow and re- 
pentance. 

“Nowhere,” says Lacordaire, “‘does 
history show us sin and repentance to- 


gether more strikingly and touchingly 
[265 ] 


THE ASCENT ‘OF CALVARY 


portrayed.” (Life of Mary Magdalen, 
Oh? 3.) 

In the heart of Simon, the Pharisee, 
suspicion had at once awakened. “This 
man, if he were a prophet,” he said 
within himself, “would know surely 
who and what manner of woman this 
is that toucheth him, that she is a sin- 
ner.” Magdalen could not penetrate 
the thoughts of those about her, but 
their mutterings reached her ears. 
Suddenly a voice was lifted in her de- 
fense; nay, more, she heard excuses 
offered in her behalf, even praise, and 
crowning all, words of pardon. 

“And he said to her: Thy sins are for- 
given thee. . . . . Thy faith hath 
made thee safe, go in peace” (Luke 7 : 
48, 50). 

Christ’s gentle tones and His look of 
compassion had pierced the heart of 
the sinful woman who gazed through 
her tears and the silken meshés of her 
hair upon the face of the divine Master. 

The marvel of grace that had so cast 
her down, had at the same instant 


lifted her to the heights. Her feet, a 
[ 266 | 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


moment ago begrimed with the mire of 
sin, no longer touched the earth. Re- 
habilitated, radiant, pure, she would 
henceforth attach herself to Jesus, to 
follow whither He led, yes, even to 
climb Golgotha with Him. 

“Behold the flight of the soul 
wounded by the love of God!” ex- 
claims Bossuet in his sermon on Virgin 
Saints. (Panegyric on St. Teresa). 
Magdalen through her repentance was 
caught up in this heavenward flight of 
pure souls. She soared to the sum- 
mit of Calvary where an honored 
place awaited her beside the chaste 
Queen of virgins and the Apostle. 


O SINNER, be thou man or woman, 
soul on the road to ruin, slave of the 
flesh, be thy sins as numerous as the 
sands of the sea, fear not, for out of the 
most heinous crimes, God can fashion 
stepping-stones by which thou canst 
mount to Him—if, like Magdalen, 
thou dost humble thyself with true re- 
pentance. 


Magdalen fell so low because she 
[267 | 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


loved unwisely and too well. Her 
spiritual love and_ self-abandonment 
lifted her, then, to Calvary’s summit 
where, at the foot of the cross, her re- 
- pentance shines, and where her love 
stands the supreme test of strength 
and endurance. | 

In the great silence and gloom of 
Calvary, those words spoken in Simon’s 
house, “‘Forgiven!’’, ““Go in peace!’, 
were beating in her memory. A new 
life had begun in earnest when she 
heard them, a new joy and peace had 
been born in her heart. And now in 
looking upon the agonizing face above 
_her, she comprehended that her peace 
had been bought at the price of that 
stark cross, of the nails buried in hands 
and feet, and of death, whose pale 
shadow stole over that adorable face. 
Yes, crouching at Jesus’ feet, Magdalen 
lifted her eyes to the livid, blood- 
stained face of the Saviour, upon which 
was written His mercy and her pardon. 
What a world of sorrow and love in 


that look! 
[ 268 ] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


There is a certain peace on the faces 
of repentant and pardoned souls, just 
as there is a radiance on the faces of 
the pure and innocent. Which wears 
the greater sweetness and serenity of 
expression? Which beams with the in- 
tenser joy? This is God’s secret, and 
that of His chosen ones. 

To me, O Lord, it seems that a 
greater love shall shine forth in my 
eyes—because out of the shattered 
fragments of the chains of my sins so 
often broken by Thy mercy, I can 
fashion a tie, strong and sweet, with 
which to bind myself for time and 
eternity to Thy immense charity. 


[269]. 


IV 


ILENT voices of tender memories 


His Chosen People Mock Him 
S rise like soothing incense from the ~ 

heart of Mary and the heart of 
Magdalen to the desolate Heart of 
Jesus—but they are blown aside by 
acrid fumes of hatred. 

There were shouting and confusion in 
this last explosion of satisfied rage. 
The last scene of the cruel drama was 
drawing to a close. God above was 
silent; men’s vile passions were given 
free rein. The mob, the executioners, 
the soldiers, the priests, the Pharisees, 
all talked, shouted, ran to and fro, ex- 
cited, mocking. 

It would seem that all the hatred 
that had been accumulating during 
the past days had found expression in a 
bitter, biting mockery which was flung 
at Jesus by the Scribes and ancients, 


who hoped that they were now looking 
[270] 





THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


for the last time upon the eyes that had 
filled them with a strange fear, and the 
lips that had reproached them with 
hard and bitter truths. Their derisive 
and cruel words rose in gusts over the 
heads of the bowed and broken Mag- 
dalen and of Mary His Mother, who 
felt those shoutings as yet another blow 
on the face of their agonizing Friend. 

“Tn Christ’s Passion,” says Bossuet, 
“there is so strange a mingling of de- 
rision and cruelty, that it is difficult to 
say which dominates; yet mockery 
prevails.” (Second Sermon on the Pas- 
sion, Part I.) 

Why should this be so? Why this 
atmosphere of derision? How explain 
the premeditated design to dishonor 
the Victim? Nay, more; when all 
forms of physical torture had been ex- 
hausted, for He was nailed fast and 
bathed in blood, they inflicted a mental 
suffering in thus mocking a helpless 
creature. They taunted Him with His 
own words, which seemed still fast in 


their memories and drew from them a 
[271] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


bitter sap to whet their thirst for 
revenge. 

“Vah, thou that destroyest the tem- 
ple of God, and in three days dost re- 
buildit: . . . . come down from the 
cross;’ shouts the rabble (Matt. 
27:40.) The conversations between 
the Scribes and priests are audible to 
Jesus’ ears. “He saved others,” say 
the priests to the people, “‘himself he 
can not save.” He called Himself the 
Son of God, and trusted in the Father; 
and has God lifted a finger to deliver 
Him? So they talked wisely among 
themselves and with a great wagging of 
heads, even among those who looked 
and passed by. 

Mockery spread to the executioners 
and the hired soldiers guarding the 
three gibbets. These induced their 
comrades who were gambling for the 
Victim’s garments at the foot of the 
cross, to offer Him a cup of wine, in de- 
rision. ‘“‘And the soldiers,’ we read in 
St. Luke, “‘also mocked him, coming 
to him, and offering him vinegar.”’ 
pie ola Until His last cry of 

| 272 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


anguish, Christ was the victim of 
sinister mockery. 

Then that poor ‘malefactor,’ “‘his 
heart become like wax melting” (Ps. 
21:15), cried despairingly, “My God, 
my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” 
The guards exclaimed: “Behold he 
calleth Elias’? (Mark 15:35). 

To a soldier who ran to dip the 
sponge in vinegar to moisten His dying 
lips, they shouted: “Stay! Let us see 
if Elias come to take him down.”’ To 
His last breath these taunts reached 
the ears of the dying Christ. In truth, 
mockery had the last word in the 
tragic scene. | 

But why the scornful wagging of 
heads? The reason is clear, cruelly 
clear; for mockery is the . doubtful 
triumph of vanity and pride. Goaded 
by its very meanness mockery searches 
into the hidden recesses of the victim’s 
soul. It tears to shreds every vestige 
of honor, thus to kill the man in the 
eyes of the world. Mockery, more- 
over, is a deadly weapon that aims to 
reach beyond the grave. ‘The heart 

[273] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


crushed under jeers and mockery knows 
no hope in its last moments, of living 
on in honored memory. | 

This explains the persecution of 
Christ by the Jews, priests, and Phari- 
sees, who jeered at and derided, to His 
last gasp, the Man who had humiliated 
them and who had boasted that He 
would rise again on the third day. He 
must be utterly destroyed. And in- 
deed, it looked as though they had 
succeeded in their fell design. Such 
are the plans of men. 

Since mockery could annihilate its 
victim, it is possible that Christ willed 
to be mocked and derided; cruelly to 
be made sport of, in order to effect this 
annihilation. “He emptied himself.” 
(Phil. 2: 7) 

The Lamb that bore the sins of the 
world must submit, not only to the 
knife that opens His veins and searches 
His entrails, but to the poisoned dart 
of jeers and sarcasm that turns to 
ridicule His meekness, His sublime and 
divine silence. When mockery has 
done its worst, neither honor nor pity 

[274] | 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


is left to the victim’s name; he is dead 
morally and physically and the hol- 
ocaust is whole and entire. That 
Christ willed this explains all. But 
there were other motives that appeal 
touchingly to our piety and gratitude. 

Jesus, who knows the future, saw His 
elect mocked. He saw their piety and 
virtue made sport of by this choice 
weapon of the world; He wished them 
to have a model«(far beyond perfect 
imitation, it is true); and He knew that 
in beholding Him under the lash of 
such scorn and ridicule, they could take 
courage from His example. 

This phase of the Passion is the one 
we shall have to imitate on but too fre- 
quent occasions. It is not given to 
every soul to bear the cruel stigmata of 
the nails nor the abrasions of the thorns 
nor the welts of the whips. The suf- 
ferings of the martyrs are the privilege 
of the select few. But what man goes 
through life without meeting some 
humiliation or contempt from his own 
friends or at the hands of strangers? 

[275] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


“The simplicity of the just man is 
laughed to scorn” (Job 12:4). The 
child-like confidence of the just is 
ridiculed, the humble are regarded as 
fanatics, for these love God after the 
manner of Christ’s teachings, and their 
lives are a rebuke to men of the world. 

Jeers are doubly painful when in- 
flicted by those near to us, from whom 
we have every right to expect consola- 
tion and support. “They that dwell in 
my house, and my maidservants have 
counted me as a stranger, and I have 
been like an alien in their eyes’”’ (Job 
19:15). And again, ‘I am become a 
reproach among all my enemies, and 
very much to my neighbors; and a fear 
to my acquaintances” (Ps. 30: 12). 


ANp now let us lift our gaze to the 
disfigured face of the Redeemer, and 
above the bloody crown and bowed 
head, let us read that title which con- 
tains in itself all the mockery and 
hatred that animated those below. 
Again, we have the concealed reason 


that impelled Jesus to die amid the 
[276 ] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


jeers of the populace. He desired 
through humiliation, to triumph pub- 
licly over His greatest enemy, the 
world, that world of vanity and illu- 
sion which is the work of the devil. (Bos- 
suet, Second Sermon on the Passion.) 

“Fear not,’ says the dishonored 
mouth of Jesus, “‘have confidence, I 
have conquered the world.” 

“Where, Lord?’ 

“On the cross.” 

“How, Lord?’ 

“With the cross.” 

Only Divinity could overcome a dan- 
gerous enemy by accepting what that 
enemy himself most dreads—humilia- 
tion. God, who rejects evil and chooses 
good, tells us that ignominy, when not 
the result of sin, is not an evil; that de- 
rision cannot harm us; that all the 
riches and favors of the world are but 
miserable poverty. The only true 
wealth is to possess him who is eternal 
riches—God. 

The world denies this. Jesus, de- 
spised, unmasks the world. An un- 
masked enemy is an enemy half- 

[277] 


THE ASCENT OF’ CALVARY 


beaten. Jesus goes further. He does 
not rest content with His first victory. 
He pursues His enemy and, from the: 
gibbet of ignominy, exposes the world’s 
shams and weaknesses. He could not 
prove to us the vanity of the supposed 
power of the world more clearly than 
by submitting apparently to be over- 
thrown by it—as a giant might allow 
himself to be bound hand and foot by 
a child, knowing that with one move- 
ment he could break the bonds. “As 
smoke vanisheth, so let them vanish 
away. 6s ORB OF): : 

How small a thing, then, is this 
power of the world, over which Christ 
triumphed by the dishonor of Calvary! 
The world thought to be rid of Jesus 
forever by turning Him into an object 
of derision. Complacently it awaited 
His last sigh. Yet scarcely had Christ 
expired amid a chorus of mockeries, 
when the earth trembled, the rocks 
opened, and the jeering crowd fled in 
terror, beating their breasts. The 
centurion fell on his knees, proclaiming 
this Man verily to be the Son of God! 

[278] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


World, where is your power? An- 
other such blow, and your strength is 
broken. This blow Jesus deals always 
from the Cross, than which there is no 
more decisive battle-field. There He 
effectively triumps over the world in 
turning against it its own weapon, con- 
tempt. 

Christ was despised by the world; He 
despised it. He takes no account of its 
opprobrium, its mockery, its derision. 
St. Paul speaks of Him as one “‘who 
having joy set before him, endured 
the cross, despising the shame.” (Heb. 
12:2) And His arm has never known 
defeat in a battle against the world. 

Let us as followers of Christ, also 
despise the world, its smiles and its 
frowns, despise it in all its ways, for it 
is both weak and false. Weak, because 
it trembles before contempt, and would 
sacrifice honor to escape it; false, be- 
cause it cannot give lasting riches nor 
durable peace. All its promises are 
vain. “Look, and pass on,” was the 
ancients’ manner of showing contempt. 

[279] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Let us imitate them. Christian pride 
is contempt of the world. 

Those who have sounded this mys- 
tery will understand what St. Paul 
calls ‘‘Esteeming the reproach of Christ 
greater riches than the treasure of the 
Egyptians. For he looked unto the 
reward” (Heb. 11:26). It is there, my 
soul, that you must place your hopes 
and your ambitions. 

Christ despised the world. To de- 
spise it is a great height to climb. He 
alone who has conquered himself can 
attain it, and then only at the cost of 
mounting over the ruins of things dear 
to his heart. 


[ 280] 


V 
His Charity Embraces the 


Executioner 


BOVE the seething gulf of mock- 
A ery, there arose triumphant, 
like a sweet incense amidst the 
acrid fumes of the holocausts, Christ’s 
first words on the cross. He was nailed 
hard and fast and hanging from His 
wounds in unspeakable agony. Cries, 
threats, sobs, and maledictions flew like 
arrows around the pale face of the 
dying God. Then from His drawn lips 
escaped the prayer, “Father, forgive 
them, for they know not what they do”’ 
(Luke 23:34). 

Divine bounty crowns its work in the 
love and forgiveness that now shine on 
the face of Christ. These are, as it 
were, the last touches to His work of 
Redemption. So the painter pausing 
in deep recollection before his picture, 


succeeds with one last stroke, in achiev- 
[ 281 | 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


ing the supreme expression of his ideal. 
“Father, forgive them!’ Here is a 
prayer, but it is also an act of humility. 
The Son, who is God, the All-powerful, 
supplicates the Father to forgive His 
executioners. ‘There is the tenderness 
that excuses, extenuates, and seeks 
what is good in the guilty soul that 
pardon may be justified. For pardon 
must be justified; the delicate goodness 
of Christ’s pardon fears to wound in 
sparing and to humiliate in absolving. 
“They know not what they do!” 
How could they know, these execu- 
tioners, accustomed to such inhuman 
work? Jesus was not the first man they 
had crucified, nor would He be the last. 
The professional exécutioner kills as 
others buy, sell, and traffic. Such men 
fastened Christ to the cross. As they 
drove the nails into His quivering flesh, 
their eyes were on the jug of wine that 
would refresh them after their labor; 
and on the Victim’s clothing, that 
would fall to their lot. 
‘Father, forgive them!’ For be- 


hold, in truth, they know not what 
A ebea 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


they do. The priests, the ancients, 
and the people who jeer, indeed they 
know not what they do. St. Paul tells 
us that had they known that He was 
the God of glory, they would never 
have crucified Him. But they did not 
know it, and Christ was crucified be- 
cause He called Himself the Messias. 
The Jews said that He could not be the 
Son of God, and in killing Him, they 
pretended to vindicate truth, to re- 
establish order, to confound ‘the im- 
postor, to save the people. “Father, 
forgive them.” 

Neither did the soldiers, seated be- 
neath the three gibbets, and awaiting 
the end, unmoved by the convulsions 
and death struggles of the agonizing 
victims, know the Truth. Father, 
deign to forgive them, too, in their 
ignorance. 

The voice from the cross fell like 
gentle dew upon those consumed by 
hatred and hardened to indifference. 
Those words of forgiveness proclaimed 
the sublimity of Christ, the immensity 


of His goodness, shining even in the 
[ 283 | 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


darkness of His dereliction, like a 
glorious sun upon the ruin of men, its 
first rays the promise of universal par- 
don for all mankind. 


Ler us lift up our eyes, then, to the 
radiance of that bounty, that last and 
sublime expression on the face of 
Christ! 

Forgiveness! There are few words so 
hard, yet so softening to men’s hearts. 
It requires an almost superhuman 
effort to forgive; for indeed it is but 
too true that we must do violence to 
our fallen natures to make them gen- 
erous. 

In the eyes of the world, to forgive 
easily is a sign of weakness. A hard, 
unforgiving man makes himself both 
respected and feared. The ancients 
said: ‘What matters it to me if I be 
hated, so I am feared?” 

Christ knew the hardness of men’s 
hearts. To change them and soften 
them He willed that the first words of 
the crucified God should be words of 
pardon and love. We do not pardon 

[284 ] ) 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


readily because we do not realize how 
hatred can exist between men of the 
same blood, endowed with the same in- 
stincts and destined to be brothers. 
And this at least is a homage rendered 
to the fraternity of humanity. And yet 
the nearer the tie of blood, the deeper 
the affection, the more difficult it is to 
forgive. What more bitter than the 
hatred which can exist between two 
brothers who were nursed at the same 
breast, who loved the same mother, and 
whose lives were bound together like 
the branch to the vine? Who can 
sound the depths of the human heart? 

We find it hard to pardon, because 
we do not seek a reason for our forgive- 
ness. Yet this is a Christian’s duty— 
to look for extenuating circumstances 
and for the good qualities of the 
offender. Christ discovered these even 
in His executioners, and in this con- 
sists the whole work of divine charity. 
Men are always:better than they seem; 
few souls, no matter how perverse, but 
possess some secret chord that can be 
touched. To this hidden depth charity 

[285 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


must descend, seeking the real man in 
the recesses of his soul, and loving him 
there. 

But to descend, the hardest task of 
love, we must first ascend and say, 
“Father!’’ Then alone shall we be 
capable of stooping to recognize our 
universal brotherhood. In a measure, 
as we climb, the obstacles to perfect 
union disappear, and wuat at first sight 
seemed formidable mountains, gradu- 
ally diminish and are lost in the line of 
the plains. Exists there a man who, at 
the end of his life, has not realized how 
often he has exaggerated his loves and 
hatreds? . 

It is in meditating at the foot of the 
Cross and in letting the divine word 
sink into their hearts, that the saints 
have felt their souls melt with pity and 
love for their fellowmen. 

God is kind to a kind heart; and He 
returns what He receives in full 
measure. Holiness expresses itself in 
kindness, the kindness that gives and 
pardons. Man is never so near to God 


as when he imitates Him in kindness 
[ 286 | 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


and this is seen in those instant con- 
versions and changes of heart that fol- 
low the pardoning of insults and in- 
juries. The resemblance between the 
Creator and creature is then complete. 

Now there is no hope of salvation 
save to those found in the image of 
Christ and Christ crucified. Ah! when 
He leans over our death-bed, His head 
heavy with the crown of thorns, and on 
His lips those glorious words, “Father, 
forgive him!’’ let us search the past for 
some act of forgiveness of our own. 
Happy, thrice happy, if we can find it. 
Forwith this treasure in our possession 
we can answer, “As I have forgiven, 
deign, Lord, to pardon me.” And 
should we be so fortunate as never to 
have seriously failed in this act of divine 
charity, let us, nevertheless, desire to 
possess charity to the supreme degree, © 
always to extenuate and excuse the 
faults of others, and to be kind, that 
we may enter into eternal life wearing 
the true face of Christ, the face that 
pardoned all, every thing, every one on 


the cross. 
[ 287 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


When these words fell from the 
Saviour’s lips they moved the hearts 
about Him in various ways. Mary, so 
near the cross, was the first to hear 
them. Had they been only whispered, 
her alert mother’s ear would have 
caught and comprehended their sublime 
generosity. 

From that arid summit divine pardon 
fell upon arid hearts. That call of love 
was to re-echo through all time, but 
even as on Calvary, many would hear 
it without responding. 

Magdalen also experienced a strange 
emotion at the words. Looking within 
herself, reviewing her past, she under- 
stood their full meaning. With intense 
gratitude she kissed those bleeding 
feet. In that divine cry, she heard the 
echo of her own pardon: “Father, for- 
give them, for they know not what they 
do!’ | 

For John and the holy women, those 
words were beyond their comprehen- 
sion; neither did the soldiers under- 
stand them. Never before had such 


words fallen from the lips of the crim- 
[ 288 | 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


inals they had crucified. If the Jews 
and Pharisees understood, they but 
served to incite them to’ more biting 
mockery and sarcasm. One man alone 
comprehended. The man blasphem- 
ing at Christ’s side suddenly ceased 
cursing. Vanquished and instantly 
transformed, he turned to look at this 
strange, God-like being. It was the 
Goed Thief. 


[289 ] 


VI 


His Generosity Rewards the 
Abject 


HE episode of the Good Thief is 

the most marvelous and for sin- 

ners, the most consoling act in 
the great drama. of Calvary. The 
rapidity with which this transformation 
of soul was accomplished, fills us with 
awe and wonder. 

A hurried encounter of words be- 
tween the two thieves above the bowed 
head of Christ; a petition to Christ; 
His reply; and that is all. And yet, 
what a stupendous change! A man 
steeped in crime, in the twinkling of an 
eye is transformed into a saint, so puri- 
fied, so truly one of the elect, as to 
merit that day admittance into para- 
dise. | 

‘“‘Amen I say to thee,”’ I, scorned and 
derided, yet eternal King, that “this 
day thou shalt be with me in paradise”’ 

[ 290 ] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


(Luke 23:43). An instant suffices for 
God to take possession of a soul and 
utterly transform it. Here lies our 
great hope and consolation. 

In the rapidity of the Good Thief’s 
conversion a deep and poignant drama 
was enacted whose development we 
shall now follow. Three figures were 
_ hanging on Calvary, their livid, dying 
faces looking down upon the moving 
crowd below. Of the three, one alone 

hung His head in shame for the crimes 
_ for which He paid the penalty with His 
life; and this one was Christ. The other 
two writhed in pain; shudders of hatred 
ran through their poor bodies. Forget- 
ful of their years of iaw-breaking, they 
revolted at the just punishment now 
inflicted, and regarded Jesus as the 
cause of their torture. Had He not 
been condemned to death that day, 
they would not yet have been executed. 
They raged against the divine Victim 
hanging between them. “And the self- 
same thing the thieves also, that were 
crucified with him, reproached him 
with” (Matt. 27: 44). | 

[291 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Jesus, who fathoms all hearts, doubt- 
less had more pity for those wretched 
outcasts than for the mob below. He 
felt the agony, pain and despair that 
goaded them to recrimination, and it 
was for them, as for His executioners, 
that He breathed His first prayer: 
“Father, forgive them, for they know 
not what they do.” 3 

Oh! mystery of divine election! Oh, 
the marvel of the power of our own 
will! 

They had heard those blessed words. 
One was silent, oppressed. The other 
absorbed in his pain, his thirst to live, 
and his rage at Jesus who had hastened 
his crucifixion took up the taunts and 
blasphemies that were being hurled at 
the King. He cried out: “If thou be 
Christ, save thyself and us’ (Luke 
23039): | 

In itself this petition was not 
blasphemous. The thief, beside him- 
self with pain and despair, called upon 
the Messias, the Wonder-Worker, the 
Son of God, to save Himself, and those 
dying with Him. He did not ask it for 

[292 ] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


himself alone, but “‘save thyself and 
us’’—who are suffering and dying in 
agony. But that his prayer was pre- 
ceded and followed by blasphemies, is 
vouched for by the evangelist. ‘One 
of those robbers who were hanged,” 
says St. Luke, “‘blasphemed him.” 

But the other thief rebuked his 
fellow. 

“Neither dost thou fear God, seeing 
thou art under the same condemna- 
tion? And we indeed justly, for we re- 
ceive the due reward of our deeds; but 
this man hath done no evil’ (Luke 
23: 40, 41). 

Behold this poor thief, this criminal 
who an instant before, had vomited 
forth blasphemies, now suddenly plead- 
ing for theone he had insulted! Nor was 
it the delirium of agony, nor incoherent 
talk, nor the ravings of a mind de- 
ranged by suffering. No—in this rapid 
change of sentiment we find the mirac- 
ulous work of grace. 

He had heard and was still hearing 
the blasphemies of those below; he 
noted the silence of Christ, nailed to 

[293] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY. 


the cross, His prayer for forgiveness for 
the people; and he knew in his heart 
that this derided Christ was verily the 
Messias, the King of the Jews, the Son 
of God. Overwhelmed, he grasped the 
monstrous injustice that nailed the 
beneficent Saviour to the gibbet with — 
two outlaws. An instinct of justice 
told him that a God, who before long 
would assume His réle of Avenger, 
hovered over this drama of Calvary. 

“Neither dost thou fear God?’ he 
called to his comrade in crime. “We 
have merited this punishment; but He, 
what evil has He done?” 

He looked to Christ;:a light broke 
upon his mind. No, no, that Being, 
dying as He was, cruelly crowned in 
derision, but breathing pardons and 
prayers in His agony, was no ordinary 
man. He was indeed a King. They had 
crucified Him as a false Messias—but 
what if He were the true one? 


Yes, He is God; I believe it, I feel it, 

I confess it, I would implore His help. 

And turning to Christ with supplica- 
[ 294 ] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


tion, the Good Thief murmured: “Lord, 
remember me when thou shalt come 
into thy kingdom.” 

“Oh! wondrous conversion!” ex- 
claims St. John Chrysostom. “He 
beholds a _ crucified impostor, and 
proclaims Him a King of glory!’’. 
(Chrysost. Homil. De Cruce et de 
Latrone.) 

“He sees gaping wounds, and streams 
of blood,’’ says St. Ambrose, ‘‘and far 
from believing Him a criminal, he 
recognizes in Him a God”’ (Ambrose, 
Serm. 50). 

Eusebius tells us that he did not 
cry out as the other, saying, “If thou 
be the Son of God, save us’’—but 
“Because thou art God, deliver me 
from the judgment to come”’ (Eusebius, 
Homil. de Latrone beato). 

“My Lord and my God, deign to re- 
member me!’ And this man passes 
from faith to vision; wrapped in the 
splendors of grace, he understands the 
whole economy of the divine life and 
death; he understands that a God 
hangs between them, a God is con- 

[295] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


demned who is guiltless of evil; a God 
dies because He has assumed the sins 
of the world and become the great 
criminal of humanity. 

But He is a K ng from on high as 
wel ; hence He possesses a kingdom, a 
palace, and servitors. He returns to 
His realm above, taking with Him all 
who believe in Him. This poor, un- 
lettered thief, guilty of crime and 
covered with ignominy, believes, hopes, 
and loves, he sees all his sins and 
ignominy heaped upon the suffering 
body of this Man-God. Unable to ex- 
tend his bound arms, he offers his suf- 
fering soul, saying: “‘Lord, remember 
me when thou shalt come into thy - 
kingdom.” 

And Jesus, bound ae Jesus, who 
can neither lift His head to give the 
kiss of peace nor His hand to bless and 
pardon, Jesus, who is, nevertheless, 
radiant with goodness and ineffable 
sweetness, answers: ‘‘Amen, I say to 
thee, this day thou shalt be with me in 


paradise.” 
[ 296 ] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


In paradise with God! Can you be- 
lieve that, poor criminal? Between 
those men bound fast to their crosses, 
occurs the most stupendous act that 
has ever taken place. The repentant 
robber relapsed into silence, and Jesus 
also. But their hearts spoke to each 
other. 

“The whole of salvation is comprised 
in this,’’ says St. Ambrose (Serm. 50), 
“to recognize a God in a humiliated 
and dishonored man, to see through 
the weakness of the condemned, the 
glory of the eternal King.” 

And we Christians in our daily lives 
must not be scandalized by the hand 
that wounds; nay, more, we must kiss 
the hand that plunges the knife, for- 
give the friend that fails, and greater 
still, murmur not at God’s silence and 
what may seem at times, to be His in- 
dulgence toward our enemies. Finally, 
everywhere and always we must be 
firm in faith, steadfast and ardent in 
love, patiently awaiting God’s time, 
willing to say our Credo in the gloom 


of Calvary. 
[297 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


This is the true secret of eternal 
salvation. Let the darkness descend, 
what care we? For henceforth a torch 
burns beside the great Victim. It is 
the luminous soul of the Good Thief, 
alight in his supreme agony with the 
radiance of divine goodness. He 
watches, he prays, he waits. With 
Christ in paradise! The thought suf- 
fices. Now, withdrawing into his ob- 
scurity and immobility, he can bear all 
things. 


How good God is! Whocan doubt, 
after this, that He is always ready to 
pardon, that nothing but our own wil- 
fulness can cut us off from His inex- 
haustible mercy? Behold Golgotha, O 
my soul. It represents thy sins, their 
number and malice. And yet the past 
life of the thief is annihilated in an in- 
stant, sunk in those words, “Today 
thou shalt be with me in paradise.” 
What matters yesterday, since today 
thou art in paradise? Could a soul ask 
more? ‘Time is not wanting. A few 


seconds sufficed to save the thief on 
[ 298 | 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


Calvary. Nor can the justice of God 
affright thee. Looking toward the cross 
I see only His mercy. 

Oh! the tenderness, the grandeur, 
the sovereign pity of God! When I 
dwell upon this attribute, even the 
thought of my manifold sins can not 
fill me with terror—for were they a 
thousand times greater, have I not ever 
a safe refuge in the cross to which [ 
have but to cling, to obtain pardon? I 
shall be on the cross when I die, and I 
shall know that I suffer justly for my 
sins. 

Let us implore Jesus to look at us as 
He looked at the Good Thief. Mementg 
mei; nay, Lord, less than a look will 
suffice; only remember me! Do I fear 
God’s memory of me? But to fear is 
- to outrage a God of mercy who not 
only pardons but forgets my sins, and 
in the same moment promises me 
paradise. 

And purgatory? What of that? 
“With me in paradise,” He says. And 
He can efface, remove every stain, if it 
‘so please Him.. “Lamb of God, who 

[299 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


taketh away the sins of the world!’ 
If He takes away the sins of the world, 
are not mine among them? This 
thought will surely give me peace and 
confidence in my last moments. 

But I suffer, and am constrained to 
suffer. Even so, “Jesus pardons more 
readily those who suffer in union with 
Him, and who make a willing sacrifice, 
even of pains they cannot escape’ 
(Bossuet). 

Cease these fears and doubts, my 
soul, proud even to the end. Does the 
beggar reason when he stretches forth 
his hand to ask an alms? Extend 
yours—receive God’s gift—be eternally 
grateful. There are even devout souls 
who trust in some secret strength of 
their own to meet God’s justice. What 
folly! A web of gauze before a burning 
flame. Far better to depend solely 
upon His pity and mercy, to go to God 
poor, naked, emptied, and stripped of 
everything, to have nothing, even 
after possessing all, with nothing to 
offer save our miseries and failings; to 
meet the redoubtable Judge whose 

[300] 3 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


gaze pierces the angels, and to stand 
before Him, undefended, our innocence 
stained, with no reparation to offer— 
this is truly an appalling thought, un- 
less like the Good Thief, we can say, 
“Lord, remember me!” Our hope re- 
turns if we can feel and breathe the one 
prayer that saves: “In God’s mercy 
alone do I hope for salvation.” (Epitaph 
on an ancient tomb in the church of 
Saint-Remi, at Rheims.) 


[301 ] 


VII 


His Tenderness Befriends Us 
eAl/ 


pious legend Jesus’ whole life was 

re-enacted at the foot of thecross, | 
in the touching and sorrowful memories 
of Mary, of Mary Magdalen, and even 
of the Good Thief. 

The ho y women who followed Him 
through Galilee and Judea, standing 
afar off in sight of the cross, went over 
in memory their first meeting with 
Christ, the familiar conversations in 
the gathering dusk under the spread- 
ing fig trees and sycamores, and across 
the rose-tinted laurel that bordered the 
enchanted shores of the Sea of Tiberias. 
It was there by preference that the 
Master preached His new and won- 
drous doctrine. All these scenes and 
images passing before them formed, as 
it were, a glorious aureole of love and 

[ 302 | : 


[ credence can be given to the 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


yearning around the drawn face of the 
dying God. 

And there were also women looking 
on afar off, among whom was that am- 
bitious mother of the children of 
Zebedee, James and John (Mark 
15:40). How well she remembered 
the day when, urged by a longing par- 
donable in a mother, she accosted Jesus 
on the highway. 

“Master, I have a favor to ask. 
Master, since Thou art King, and shall 
reign in Thy realm, grant that my two 
sons, James and John, may be seated 
in Thy Kingdom, one at Thy right and | 
the other at Thy left.” 

“O woman! thou knowest not what 
thou art asking. My Kingdom! See 
its insignia: My throne, a cross; My 
crown, a circlet of thorns; the crown 
jewels, My blood, that flows to the last 
drop; My title, read it nailed in de- 
rision on high; those at My right and 
My left, two crucified men like Myself. 
No, in sooth, thou knowest not what 
thou dost ask! . . . . James and 
John, can they drink of my chalice?’ 

[ 303 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


“Yea, Lord.” 

“But this chalice is of myrrh and 
vinegar, of the tears that flow from my 
eyes, of the anger of the Father, the 
contempt of men, and the abandon- 
ment of my own. Can they drink of 
it? Ah! thou knowest not what thou 
dost ask!’ 

The Good Thief, far from demanding 
a high place, asked but to be remem- 
bered. ‘‘And whosoever shall exalt 
himself shall be humbled: and he that 
shall humble himself shall be exalted” 
(Matt. 23 : 12). 

All these thoughts and far-off pic-— 
tures were present to the mother of 
James and John as she perceived in 
the gloom, near the despised, outraged | 
and dying Jesus, her son John—alone. 
And the other, James, where was he? 
He who had asked for a place near the 
King, and had affirmed that he could > 
drink of the same chalice, had fled 
and was in hiding. John, the youngest, 
stood alone on the blood-stained sum- 
mit. 

[ 304 ] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


J OHN, too, returned in thought to 
the first meeting with the Master. That 
whole past was lovingly engraved in 
his mnd. The heart, when torn by 
sorrow, inclines to the memory of hap- 
pier days, and in the presence of the 
Beloved One, now humiliated and 
despised, John still saw Him in all His 
former comeliness. He saw the Jordan 
where John the Baptist stood amid the 
swaying reeds and the hedges of 
tamarisk lining its banks. On the day 
of that first meeting, the Baptist stood 
alone on the verdant border that con- 
trasted strikingly with the sandy and 
ravaged plains of Jericho. With him 
were two disciples, Andrew of Beth- 
saida and John, both sons of fishermen 
on the Lake of Genesareth. The time 
was four o’clock; the air was soft and 
balmy, and the sun was sinking in the 
direction of Jerusalem, behind the 
mountain. Suddenly a footfall sounded. 
John the Baptist turned, and there 
stood the Master, His white figure 
sharply outlined against the green of 


the foliage. 
[305} 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


“Behold the Lamb of God!’ mur- 
mured the Baptist. 

Andrew and John grasped instantly 
the meaning of the Precursor’s words; 
and leaving him, they timidly followed 
after Jesus. Presently Jesus turned 
and looked at them. 

“What seek ye?’ He asked. 

“Thy dwelling-place, Master.” 

“Come and see.”’ 

Whither did He take them? To 
what retreat? To Jericho? Or further 
on in the direction of the Dead Sea, or 
toward the Fountain of Eliseus? Tra- 
dition does not tell us. All we know is 
that they remained with Him until 
nightfall. We know also that the fol- 
lowing day, Andrew met his brother, 
Simon, and said to him, “We have 
found the Messias.” Shortly after- 
ward, the Gospel tells us, Jesus passed 
by the bark where James and John, 
with their father Zebedee, were: mend- 
ing nets (Matt. 4:21). A word fell 
from His lips in passing, “Come, 


follow me.’ It was done, and John 
[ 306 ] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


had belonged henceforth, to the 
Master. 

There, at the foot of the cross, he 
recalled that delicious capture, and the 
subsequent sweet intimacy with the 
Lord, even to the resting of his head 
upon the Saviour’s bosom, face almost 
touching face. And now, what a 
change! Behold the same visage soiled 
and dishonored! He recalled its bril- 
liancy as of the sun when the Master 
stood on Mount Thabor, with Moses 
and Elias beside Him in the places of 
the two thieves. He heard again that 
voice from heaven and saw Christ 
radiant, His garments dazzling as snow. 

But, in the deepening gloom of the 
cross, John beheld only three agonizing 
criminals expiring on three crosses. 
The frightful contrast appalled him; 
he could neither understand, nor grasp 
the meaning, nor see the reason for 
such suffering. | 

Neither do we understand the mys- 
tical reasons for the sufferings that 
crush us. Only light from above, a 
super-rational enlightenment, can en- 

[307 | 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


able us to comprehend. We must be- 
lieve that whatever befalls us is just 
and good and for God’s glory. This act 
of faith will brighten many gloomy 
hours and shine on the scattered ruins 
of our poor lives. 

The heavens darkened into impene- 
trable night; and it was at this moment, 
amid the consternation produced by 
so strange a phenomenon, that Jesus 
called His Mother. 

“Woman,” he said,—using the word 
which, in the language of that country 
is a term of respect and affectionate 
veneration: “Woman, behold thy son!” 

“He calls His Mother,” says St. 
Ambrose. ‘‘His tender, filial love owes 
this last public testimony to such a 
mother.” 

How Mary’s heart must have quiv- 
ered. Her lips touched the limbs of 
her dear Son; she lifted her arms to 
Him, and, still higher, her soul. 


Mortnerr That is the last call 
of the dying. Those who have assisted at 
[ 308 ] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


death-beds in hospitals and on battle- 
fields know how often they have heard, 
in delirium and the throes of the last 
agony, that sweet word, like a piercing 
cry, “Mother!” Man appeals to the 
being he holds most dear on earth, when 
all else human seems crumbling and 
giving way. At such moments he 
turns instinctively to the one who 
never abandons, because her love has 
never failed. In the waning conscious- 
ness, her image alone survives. Mother 
—faithful, loving, conquers all ob- 
stacles, bridges all distances, to kiss for 
the last time the pallid brow, to moisten 
the parched lips of her dying child. 

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray 
for us poor sinners, now, and at the 
hour of our death!” 

This prayer, O Lord, was made for 
us: and in my last appeal to the tender 
heart of our good Mother on high, I 
hope to put all the tenderness and sup- 
plication of my heart. 

“Woman, behold thy son,” said 
Jesus, looking at John, as if He would 
say, “Here, Mother, is the child that 

[ 309 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


will take my place.” And turning His 
tear-dimmed eyes upon the disciple He 
loved, He murmured, “Behold thy 
Mother.” 


[g10] 


VIII 


His Agony ts (Conipleted in 


Silence 


OR two hours, Jesus had hung in 
Hees in the gathering darkness. 
Terror had seized upon those 
about that dying figure. His words 
were already taking root in souls near 
Him on Calvary. The pardon He had 
asked for the soldiers and His execu- 
tioners was stirring the heart of the 
centurion, who would fall on his knees, 
. proclaiming Him verily the Son of God. 
His syllables of mercy to the Penitent 
Thief had elevated and purified that 
dying prisoner, absorbed now in the 
contemplation of Christ’s immense and 
divine pity. The words, “Woman, be- 
hold thy son; Son, behold thy Mother,” 
sank sweetly, yet sorrowfully, ‘into the 
hearts of Mary and her new child. 
That Mother most compassionate 
turned toward John, as he turned 
[311] - 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


toward her; in that reciprocal gaze, 
what respectful veneration on the part 
of the son; what tender yearning in the 
Mother’s eyes! Mary, through divine 
grace working in her, understood the 
full meaning of the gift. In bestowing 
it, Jesus but did His duty asason. He 
was dying; His Mother stood alone; 
could He leave her unprotected in her 
loneliness? During His public life He 
had had a care for her. The Gospels 
do not mention this, but there is a 
gospel of the heart, not written, but 
felt. 

Jesus was going away; He must ap- 
point some one to take His place. Had 
Peter been there, at the cross, who - 
knows but that upon him, the future 
head of the Church, Vicar of Christ, 
would have descended the privilege of 
cherishing the sorrow-stricken Mother. 


But he was absent, and Jesus rewarded 
the fidelity of John. 


W HEN God searches for souls to do 
His work, happy are those upon whom 
His glance then falls. Mary had be- 

[312] . 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


come John’s mother, and John must 
have from her all the tenderness which 
belonged to her Son. The Virgin 
Mother seized the full meaning of this 
universal motherhood. More had been 
given to her, and more was at once and 
forever demanded of her; she must 
respond to the appeal of her dying Son 
by loving, through this new child, all 
present and future generations; and her 
sorrowful maternity took life and form 
during those two hours of silence. 

“Oh! my Jesus, what dost Thou 
require of me?’’ she asks mutely. “All 
men, even these?’ She looks about 
her. Her eyes rest lovingly on John. 
But there are also the executioners, the 
soldiers, the mockers, the priests, the 
Pharisees. Must she take these to her 
heart? “‘Yes, sorrowing Mother.”’ And 
the generations to come? “Yes, sorrow- 
ing Mother.”’ Alas! like her Son, who, 
from the height of the cross, embraced 
all humanity in His divine glance, so 
Mary at the foot of that same cross, 
must extend the fulness of her mother- 
hood to all future men. 

[313] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Thou wilt not recoil before this cruel 
task, O Mother! Come even to me, I 
beseech thee, that I may seek refuge in 
Thy maternal arms. 

Mary accepted and her soul was 
pierced anew with the sword of sorrow 
prophesied by Simeon. Only then did 
she understand the full meaning of that 
prophecy (Luke 2:35). As her Son 
had extended His feet and hands to be 
nailed, so she bared her heart to the 
sword; and in that bleeding wound, 
during the silence and darkness at the 
foot of the cross, beneath the pardoned 
thief, and beside the weeping Magdalen, 
we too were born unto that divine and 
symbolic relationship of John and the 
Mother of Christ. 

Jesus saw all from the height of His 
blood-stained throne, and as after the 
first days of creation, He could approve, 
for He “‘saw that it was good”’ (Gen. 2). 


SINCE that hour on Calvary, when 

Mary brought forth in the pain and 

labor of her bleeding heart her spiritual 

offspring, she has had two distinct 
[314] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


classes of children. First there are 
those of the race of John, pure and 
purified souls. For these she has ever 
the tenderness and caresses of a mother 
who sees in them the life of Jesus— 
grace. But how rare, O Mother, are 
these chosen souls! I see but_one John 
on Calvary. 

Then there is the race of the execu- 
tioners. Who of us can say that he is 
not, or has never been of this race? 
He who sins, crucifies Christ anew! 
And beside the cross there stands a 
sorrowing Mother who loves us despite 
our cruel forgetfulness and ingratitude. 

This is the great miracle of God, to 
have so drawn and united sinners to 
Him that they become Mary’s children. 
Since that dark hour on Golgotha, 
Mary not only deigns to receive them, 
but she goes in quest of them. She re- 
stores them, and bids them take refuge 
in her open heart. 

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray 
for us, now, and at the hour of our 
death. Amen.” 


[315] 


IX 
Utter Dereliction 


IFE holds no crueler hour than 

that in which a man finds him- 

self absolutely alone. Whether 
misfortune has stripped us of goods and 
friends, or old age has crept upon us, 
few escape the pangs of loneliness. The 
happiest lives drift, in the end, into 
indifference to men and things. What 
a contrast between the buoyancy, the 
eagerness and allurement of youth, 
and the desolation of the last years of 
life! Those we loved are gone, and 
other lives that touched our own are 
set in newer currents. No one remains 
to bestow love and friendship upon us, 
no one to whom we can give either. 
It is too late to form new ties that 
death must soon sever. So we finish 
our course like strangers in a foreign 
land. This is the final abandonment, 


the last stripping, the death-blow to 
[ 316) 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


that instinct which has so long clung to 
life, and all that men call happiness. 

Jesus in His Passion entered into this 
desolate solitude, and there, as in all 
else, He did not spare Himself. He 
carried to its utmost conceivable ex- 
pression, the despair and anguish of 
abandonment. In the space of twenty- 
four hours He fell from delirious tri- 
umph to contempt and desertion, 
stripped of honor and of friends; and 
the close of His life appeared as a 
catastrophe. 

Now, on the cross, He was nearing 
the end of His three hours of agony. 
Enshrouded in darkness, His bleeding 
form was scarcely distinguishable upon 
its last bed, its last shelter. The cross 
was His only possession. Jesus was no 
longer on the earth, neither was He in 
heaven. Suspended by nails, He was 
held fast to a dying life by wounds that 
each moment were tearing wider 
asunder. 

Hardly forty-eight hours before, if 
He had appeared in the streets of 
Jerusalem, He would eth a ac- 

317 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


claimed by the populace; His disciples 
would have been proud of the Master 
who was hailed as King. But on that 
Friday, where were they? Who was 
left of the Twelve? One only stood at 
His side. The people had denied Him; 
the priests had delivered Him up; all © 
had turned against Him; and to com- 
plete His utter dereliction, by His will, 
he yielded up His own beloved Mother. 
Nothing now remained to Him save 
His heavenly Father. 


Man, in the grip of an adverse fate, 
_ stripped of the goods of this world, de- 
serted by friends, realizes that God is 
all in all. Then his cry of supplication 
penetrates heaven, and detached wholly 
as he is from men and things, the lustre 
of renouncement lights up his face 
with an expression of serene diginity 
and spiritual beauty. 

Boniface VIII, that striking type of 
papal dignity, saw himself at eighty- 
four years of age abandoned by his 
cardinals and delivered over to his 


enemies. But his throne remained. 
[318] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


Conscious of his exalted office, clothed 
in all the pomp of pontifical majesty, 
crowned with the papal tiara, cross in 
hand, he mounted his throne in the 
deserted hall. There, attended by a 
faithful cardinal and a monk, he ap- 
peared a kingly figure, great and su- 
preme despite his pathetic and empty 
court; and as the doors gave way under 
the brutal and sacrilegious battering of 
the envoys of Philip of France, he ex- 
claimed: “At least I die as befits the 
Vicar of Christ.”’ 

Both friend and foe bow before 
courage, pride, and dignity that die 
standing. When man is face to face 
with injustice and’ cowardice, it is the 
consciousness of his own integrity, it is 
his trust in an all-seeing God and in 
Justice incarnate, that strengthen and 
lift him to sublime heights of endur- 
ance. 

All these feelings, a thousand times 
intensified, Jesus experienced in the 
course of His public life. How often 
He had called upon His heavenly 
Father and never in vain. poe a in 

379 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


the supreme hour of His Passion, 
abandoned by all, delivered over to 
His executioners, with none to comfort 
or help Him, He turned in desperation 
to that far-off heaven where His voice 
had ever found an echo. In a last 
supreme effort, He lifted His head, 
heavy with the weight of thorns, and 
His eyes sought. His Father on high. 

But He too was silent. Deaf were His 
ears to the Son’s pleading. His heart, 
open only yesterday to Christ’s least 
desire, was now pitilessly closed to Him 
who had consented to be stained with 
our sins. Never again will any man 
taste abandonment so bitter. The 
darkness of our last hours will be 
illumined by a ray of celestial bounty. 
For He died for us. When all have fled 
and left us, when help fails, and there is - 
nolight for our feet, in the shadows that 
darken the last turn of the road, there 
shall shine for us as an effulgent sun, 
the glowing heart of the Father in 
heaven. No sinner, be he sunk in the 
depth of crime, ever called upon God 
in vain. 

[320] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


But it was not thus on Golgotha. It 
was nearing three o’clock. For more 
than two hours Christ had hung in a 
silence as profound as the darkness 
that obscured His form. The repentant 
thief was silent; the bad one, scarcely 
able to mutter his blasphemies, so 
weakened was he by suffering and hor- 
ror of the weird darkness that en- 
veloped him. The people had gradually 
slunk away; even the Pharisees coming 
up on their mules to the foot of the 
cross to inspect the state of their vic- 
tims, dared no longer mock openly. 
The soldiers spoke in hushed voices, and 
Mary, leaning on her new-found son, 
looked in agonized wonder at the 
closed eyes and mute lips of her dying 
Jesus. What oppressive silence! What 
heaviness weighed upon the darkened 
air! What terror wrapped itself about 
the three gibbets! 

And Jesus, like a drowning man, 
sank deeper and deeper, until He ap- 
peared to be engulfed in the impene- 
trable gloom. For, lo, He sought 


therein, for God, His Father. 
[321] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Kk ATHER, hearken to my prayer, 
Thou who hast never failed me.”” And 
while all was crumbling and giving way, 
Christ clung to Him to whom He 
looked for the help and consolation that 
men denied Him. 

He waited; but God was silent; not 
even an angel came to strengthen Him, 
as on the yesterday in Gethsemani. 
The tide mounted; the waters of dere- 
liction had submerged Jerusalem, and 
on Calvary, Mary Magdalen, John, 
and His Mother were immersed in the 
rising flood. 

Opening His dimming human eyes, 
Jesus saw only blackness and _ horror. 
The dark tide was rising higher and 
higher; it had reached His sacred 
breast. Anon, those waters, freighted 
with the débris of sinful humanity, 
must beat upon His face. | 

Father! Father! turn not a deaf ear, 
I implore Thee! “I cry to thee and thou 
hearest: Mé@/nots!..3).oce | nOneer 
changed to be cruel toward me, and in’ 
the hardness of thy hand thou art 


322 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


against me’ (Job 30:20, 21). The tide 
rose higher and ever higher, and nailed 
fast, Jesus could not flee from the 
slow death that held Him in its grasp. 

Had Christ been only human, to be 
rejected by all men, and abandoned by 
His own; to have heaven, His sole hope, 
closed against Him, would have cast 
Him into an abyss of despair. But He 
was God, and His divinity held in its 
mighty grasp His fainting humanity 
which suffered all the horror of the 
black tide that had reached His lips. 
From His divine throat, tightened and 
parched with terror, a sob escaped, and 
a cry rang out in the blackness: “My 
God, my God, why hast thou forsaken 
me?” 

This piercing prayer echoed in the 
silent desolation of Calvary, the last 
cry of a man sinking beneath the waves. 

God hearkened not to the call of 
His Son; nay, more, He rejected Him. 
His hand, far from reaching out to 
rescue Jesus from the angry flood, 
plunged Him deeper into its turmoil. 

[ 323 ] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


Oh, God, Thou hast become so cruel 
to Thine only Son! But this is the hour 
of Eternal Justice, and the Prophets 
have conserved for us the anguished 
appeals that rose unceasingly to the 
_ closed heart of the pitiless Father: 

“T weep, I cry out without hope—yet 
others Thou hast listened to.  For- 
merly my father Abraham prayed to 
Thee, and Thou didst deliver to him 
five kings. Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, 
and the Israelites in the desert,—Thou 
hast heard them all. But me Thou 
hast not heard. Is it because I have 
become a disfigured worm, writhing in 
suffering? Alas! | am no longer a man; 
I have become the shame of my people; 
they jeer and flaunt me. In this day 
of wrath, Thou hast abandoned me. 
Have I become contemptible in Thine 
eyes because I am plunged into incon- 
ceivable horror? 

“In olden days ‘Thou didst protect 
me. In my infancy an angel conducted 
me into Egypt; another brought me 
thence; a third ministered to me in the 
desert; yesterday in the garden one 

[324 ] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


came to fortify me. But to-day, what 
have I? Furious wild beasts surround 
me. Men hound me as thé huntsmen 
a hare. I am a tracked creature, 
caught and devoured by the pack, and 
Thou, my God, art silent. Behold! am 
I not an object of pity? Father, save 
me from this hour! 

“T am helpless; I run like water; I 
melt like wax; I am broken into pieces; 
my joints no longer support me; my 
strength is dried up, and I can no longer 
cry to Thee!’ 

His head fell forward. His terrified 
eyes knew not where to rest. What 
appalling dereliction! Yet Christ must 
suffer it. | 

This mystery of divine despair is the 
violent conflict between two realities 
and possibilities. “I could have escaped 
this horrible torture,” cries Jesus the 
man. ‘Now all hope has fled, and the 
worm that dieth not, consumes me.” 

“T could have evaded this cruel pay- 
ment for sinners,” says Jesus the God. 
“The choice was left to me; and I 
willed to cast myself into this fathom- 

[325] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


less sea, from whose depths I can rise 
no more. I could have refused this cup, 
but I drank it, and the poison burns in 
my blood, and has permeated my being. 
The sins of humanity are nailed to 
my flesh, as my flesh is nailed to the 
cross. From the just anger of God I 
can not flee; I must suffer all, and unto 
the end.” All this Christ could have 
said to Himself, and added that bitter- 
est sting of despair: ‘‘Not only am I 
bereft of all human help, but I am 
judged unworthy of divine succor.”’ 
Abandoned by men, abandoned by 
God! To be rejected by God means to 
touch the deepest abyss of human 
misery and despair. The difference 
between the agony in the garden and 
the dereliction on the cross is, that in 
the first, Christ was not without hope; 
there was still one gleam in the dark- 
ness of His anguish: ‘Father, all 
things are possible to thee; let this 
chalice pass,” and Jesus clung des- 
perately to the one ray that forbade 


despair. 
[326 | 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


Hope is the last light that is ex- 
tinguished in the soul. But on the 
cross, no beam pierced the darkness; 
all chance of help had gone. The 
Father claimed payment of the bond, 
and the Son must suffer His chastise- 
ment. 


ce 

I T behooved Christ to suffer.” Poor 
Jesus, it is so because I have sinned— 
and my iniquities are upon Thee who 
must undergo the extreme punishment 
due to sin, the dereliction. 

I have abandoned God—and Jesus, 
bearing on His body all my cowardly 
_ betrayals, suffered the frightful chas- 
tisement due me for all eternity. The 
dereliction: terrible retaliation: an eye 
for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. 

But this death is my salvation; and 
because of the abandonment in which 
this divine Sinner agonizes, covered 
with my sins, I shall be blessed and 
pardoned, and shall never taste the 
bitterness which He has drunk. His 
last satisfaction of divine justice was 
the supreme act of generosity. Love 

[327] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


could go no further to expiate our sins 
and reassure our souls. 

Lord, in Thy dereliction I touch the 
masterpiece of Thy immense goodness 
to me. Of all the sacred moments of 
Thy cruel agony, none is so precious to 
me as this dreadful hour. A God 
abandoned that I may never suffer 
such abandonment! This last proof 
of Thy love conquers fear. I believe, 
I feel, I see now that Thou dost desire 
and seek to save me. O divine, 
abandoned Saviour! In the desolation 
and loneliness of the last hour, it is Thee, 
my Redeemer, whom I shall invoke, 
and it is to Thee that I now offer in | 
reparation the neglect and forgetful- 
ness that wound my own heart. Amen. 


[ 328] 


Xx 


C onsummatum Est / 


the moment of that first an- 

guished cry of Jesus, ‘My God! 
my God! why hast thou forsaken me?”’, 
events followed in rapid succession. It 
was near the ninth hour; black night 
enshrouded Golgotha. Mary, John, 
and the holy women, their hearts torn 
by that piercing cry, drew nearer to the 
cross. All eyes were fixed on Christ, on 
the mutilated body of the Saviour. His 
face, in the words of the Prophets, was 
blotted out, livid, pinched, drowned in 
darkness and blood. His eyes were 
fixed and glassy. His mouth only 
they saw, from which the breath 
escaped laboriously. 

It was the end; Jesus knew that He 
was dying. His mind, lucid to the last, 
reviewed the far-distant past and all 
that the Prophets had foretold = Him. 

[329 


S T. MATTHEW tells us that from 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


No outrage had been spared Him, and 
He knew that all the predicted suffer- 
ings and tortures had been fulfilled on 
the road that led to Calvary and the 
cross. 

Yes, all, save one thing, was now 
accomplished. David, speaking of 
Christ’s intolerable sufferings, and the 
contempt to be heaped on Hin, said: 
“And in my thirst they gave me vinegar 
to drink”’ (Ps. 68:22). One feature of 
human ingratitude, one last expression 
of cruelty would have been wanting, 
had Jesus, parched with thirst, in the 
supreme torture of the crucifixion, 
been given that drop of fresh water 
which is never refused a dying criminal. 
He made known His torturing thirst— 
but only to bring upon Himself another 
form of suffering. 

When the nails were driven into His | 
flesh, He gave no sound. He had not 
cried out at the crowning of thorns. 
The awful stretching that tore His 
limbs and dislocated His joints had not 
brought from Him a murmur of pain. 
Two cries alone on Calvary betrayed 

[330] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


His torture: “My God, my God, why 
hast thou forsaken me?” and “I thirst.” 

Unspeakable were Christ’s sufferings 
of mind and body. The exhausting 
sweat in Gethsemani, a night without 
sleep or rest, the brutal flagellation, and 
above all, the abandonment of the 
Father, whose implacable justice, a 
flame that burned more ardently in 
His being than the fever of the cruci- 
fixion, was as fire in His blood. All this 
produced the thirst that forced from 
Him that plaintive cry. The holy 
women heard. Mary looked about in 
vain, Magdalen, Mary Cleophas, John, 
all His devoted friends, gazed helplessly 
at those parched lips, for on Calvary 
they saw naught but rock, and the 
blood-soaked earth. 

But the soldiers were not inattentive 
to the supplication of the dying Saviour. 
Beside them lay a bowl of vinegar 
used to sprinkle the swooning criminals 
when the first stroke of the hammer 
drove the nails into their flesh. Lying 
beside the bowl was a sponge to remove 
the blood from the hands and arms and 

[331] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


to wipe the livid faces of the dying. It 
was soaked with blood, water, and 
dust. Who among the soldiers could 
have conceived the diabolical idea of 
quenching the thirst of the dying with 
this revolting draught? The sacred 
text leads us to believe that not one, 
but several, lent themselves to this 
last act of cruelty. One of them 
dipped the sponge in the vinegar; a 
second sought means of reaching the 
mouth of the thirsting Christ; while a 
third and more inventive one seized a 
reed and on it tied the sponge. 

Nothing is unforeseen in the designs 
of God. Might this reed not have been 
one of those with which the soldiers 
struck Christ in the Pretorium? Who 
knows? Mayhap it was the very one 
He held in His sacred hand when they 
made sport of Him. The crown of 
thorns was worn by Christ in climbing 
Calvary; why not bring also the royal 
scepter, since the accoutrement must 
be complete? 

The sponge soaked with vinegar was 
held to Jesus, who, moistening His 

[332] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


parched lips with the acrid liquid, said, 
“Tt is consummated.” 

Yes, all was finished. The cycle of 
torture had been run; abandonment 
and dereliction could go no further. 
Night, black and terrifying, had de- 
scended; heaven had withdrawn its 
light; the body of the divine Victim was 
drained of its last drop of blood, and 
human malice had reached its height. 
Jesus had drunk the brimming cup to 
the lees, that bitter vinegar which a 
refined cruelty had kept for the end. 

Death hovered over the cross, its 
hand was stretched forth, yet it was 
powerless to seize its Victim until He 
had spoken the word. “‘I alone,” said 
Christ, “have power over my own life.” 
Of it He was absolute’master until this 
moment, and after. Jesus willed to 
die, of His own frée will and to die 
grandly; never had He been more truly 
King than in the face of death. 


Ler us die with Him if He so wills it; 
let us die like Him, for the death of the 


just reproduces the death of Christ. 
[333] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


To finish our earthly career on the cross 
in complete desolation, in silence and 
in darkness, and, should God ask it of 
us, with a drop of gall on our lips, is a 
death precious in God’s sight. 

What shall be my death? May it, 
Lord, be a silent and humble one. Let 
the follower of Christ bow his head, 
humiliate himself, clinging to hope in 
the shadow cast by God’s loving hand, 
when He comes to lay it upon him; for 
in that last moment we may be denied 
all tenderness and affection from men 
and receive instead the bitter draught 
of gall and vinegar. 

God is jealous of the image He im- 
prints on the souls of His chosen ones. 
He asks from those He loves the desola- 
tion and pain He suffered. But it will 
be a sweet suffering, to gaze lovingly 
and with steadfast eyes on our cruci- 
fied Redeemer, dying as He died, for- 
gotten, abandoned, misunderstood, per- 
haps, even by our own. 

This is the last purification. O death! 
desirable and precious in the sight of 

[334] 


THE SUMMIT OF TORTURE 


the angels, faithful model of the death 
of the gentle Jesus! 

“My Lord and Master, from this _ 
moment I accept willingly from Thy 
hand whatever death it may please 
Thee to inflict upon me, with all its 
anguish, pains, and suffering,” ' 


Ir is consummated.” ‘These words 
which I myself must one day say, I say 
now with Thee, my God. Christ’s 
last words were said rather to the angels 
than to men, and to God, whose justice 
is now forever satisfied. The soldiers 
hardly heard them, so absorbed were 
they in their derisive jokes about Elias, 
who might come to deliver the King of 
the Jews. And then an immense cry 
rent the night, a cry that turned all 
eyes to the cross, where the expiring 
Victim lifted Himself on His wounds, as 
it were, defying death; and in the 
silence and terror that seized upon 
those on Calvary, a voice, full and 


—_———_ 


1(Prayer of Pius X, plenary indulgence, under usual 


conditions.) 
[335] 


THE ASCENT OF CALVARY 


strong and triumphant, exclaimed: 
“FF ather, into thy hands I commend my 
_ spirit.” 

Those conquering words pierced the 
heavens and shook the earth. John, 
standing near the cross, beheld the 
Master’s livid face leaning forward. 
Then His chin fell upon His breast; 
Christ bowed His head and gave up the 
ghost. 


* * %+* * * 


Here finishes the ascent of Calvary. 
The great work of redemption has been 
accomplished. Christ has reconciled 
heaven and earth. 

Christians of the world, approach 
this bloody summit with confidence for — 
through it you can be saved if you will. 
Amen. 


[336] 





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